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Page. 10. 


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WOOD WORTH’ 


CABINET OF CURIOUS 


EMBELLISHED WITH ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 



BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH, 

AUTHOR OF “ STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS,” “ STORIES ABOUT BIRDS,” “ yxCLE FRANK’S HOME STORIES,” 

“ uncle Frank’s boy’s and girl’s library,” etc. etc. 



ROCHESTER: 

PUBLISHED BY ERASTUS DARROW, 

CORNER OF MAIN AND ST. PAUL STREETS. 

1852. 


> ^ 
* > > 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year of our Lord, 1852, 

BY ERASTUS DARROW, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Northern District of New York. 


/ 



\ 


PAGE. 


Adjective in English, 245 

Adventures of a Half Dollar, 334 
A Farmer’s Care for his Son, 269 
An Hour with the Deaf and 

Dumb, 253 

A Laughable Mistake, 58 

A Musical Ghost, 171 

Ancient Rooks 212 

Ancient Egyptian Deities, 79 

Anecdote of a Snow Bird, 116 

Anecdote of a Tiger, 52 

April Showers and May Flowers, 103 
Artesian Wells, 125 

A Sensible Retort, 58 

A Touching Scene, 94 

Augustine’s Visit to England, 50 
Aunt Betsey, the Gossip, 179 

Address to a Butterfly, 366 

A Poor, but Honest Mother, 372 
An Ingenious Dog, 380 

Bo Contented with Little, 257 

Biography of our Dog Banquo, 277 
Blind Boy’s Return, 18 

Boiling Ponds in New Zealand, 191 
Bonito and Flying Fish, 141 

Botany, Conversations on, 135, 185 
213, 248, 300, 329 
Bread Fruit, 315 

Brother’s Farewell — Poetry, 187 
Butterfly’s Advice, 110 

Butterfly, 127 

Canadian at the Forge, 311 

Canary Bird, 255 

Careless Girl, 11 

Caroline’s Story and Dream, 145, 169 
Causes of Toothache, 47 

Children and the Robin, 235 

Children’s Sports, 313 

Chinese Junk, 278 

Clove Tree, 123 

Conversations on Botany, 135, 185 
213, 248, 300, 339 
Conversations on Electricity, 82, 119 
Convention of Animals, 1 18 

Cook, Captain, 266 

Crab, Land, 42 

Curiosity of a Spider’s Web, 57 
Curious Shells, 234 

Daughter’s Love, 309 

Day Dreams of Youth, 43 

Death Bed — Poetry, 62 

Desolation of Judea 383 

Discontented Bittern, 194 

Disobedient Boy, 318 

Dogs, Stories about, 15, 60, 78 


Don’t be Frightened at Bugbears, 379 
Dying Child's Vision of Heaven, 305 


Eastern Mode of Writing, 308 
Echoes, Remarkable, 90 

Editorial Table Talk, 31, 65, 95, 129 
162, 195, 226, 258, 289, 322, 355 
Editor's Dark Pigeon Hole, 200 


PAGE. 


Edward VI. 215 

Egyptian Deities, Ancient, 79 

Egyptian Deities, 287 

Elephant, Wild and Tame, 239 

Emblem of Salvation, 283 

Emigrant’s Dog, 126 

Emperor and Judge, 308 

Employment of Time, 205 

Evil Company, 349 

Exaggerated Expressions, 107 

Fable of the Foolish Calf, 140 

Facts to be Remembered, 338 

Fable of the Wave and Sea Shell, 117 
Fairy Land, 106 

Family at Prayer, 110 

Farmer and his Son, 122 

Farewell to my Mother, 14 

Fatal Blow, 86 

First Blue Bird, 174 

Fishing, Thoughts on, 231 

Flower Pots, 110 

Flying Fish and Bonito, 147 

Foolish Calf — a Fable, 140 

Frogs and Toads, 377 

Fruit Woman of Normandy, 172 

Gambling, Rail-road to, 268 

Garden Flowers, 161 

Goldsmith, the Poet, 263 

Goshawk, Natural History ofj 64 
Grammatical Lessons, 112 

Grassy Sea, 76 

Harvesting Apples, 319 

Holyrood Palace and Abbey, 30 

How to Manage Neighbors, 282 

Humming Bird, Story of, 295 

Hunting, 157 

Hymn for Sunday School, 160 

I Don’t Want To, 144 

Importance of Culinary Know- 
ledge, 178 

Invocation to Evening, 321 

Irish Peasant, 142 

Jewish Maiden, 312 

Journey in a Balloon, 270 

Key of the Coffin, 142 

Land Crab, 41 

Lena, the River, 245 

Leopold de Meyer, 12, 49 

Lesson in Tenderness, 20 

Life in the Southwest, 218, 251 
Life in Prairie Land, 115 

Life on the Prairie, ’ 148 

Little Orphan Children, 39 

Little Prisoner, 233 

Living to do Good, 62 

Look before you Leap, 207 

Lord Erskine, 201 

Luther, Martin, Anecdote of, 139 


PAGE. 


Letters to the Little Folks, 374 

Manhood Judged by Youth, 354 

Mason and Dixon’s Line, 284 

May Flowers and April Showers, 113 
Messengers of Mercy, 150 

Miser’s Death Bed, 152 

Monument to Dr. Watts, 83 

Monument to Walter Scott, 56 

Mother and her Sailor Boy, 59 

Mountain and Plain, 153 

Music, 38, 102, 166, 230, 294, 358 
My First Hunting Excursion, 199 

My Little Brother, 321 

My Little Sister, 354 

My Little Playmate and her 

Grandfather, 327 

My Mother in her Closet, 276 

My Sister — Music, 120 

My Soul, hope thou in God, 58 

My Wife’s Gold Ring, 303 

Names of the Days of the Week, 288 
Natural Gas Lights, 354 

Nicolo Poussin, the Painter, 306 

Nunnery of the Hotel Dieu, 158 

Oak and Insect, 225 

Oh, Dear, 209 

Offering of the Heart — Poetry, 81 
Old Jack, the favorite Horse, 167 

Oriental Jewelry, 29 

Orphan Boy, 336 

Orphan Children, 39 

Orphan’s Lament, .42 

Our Dog Prince and his Enemy, 206 
Owl, the Great Horned, 75 

Peaches and Moral Philosophy, 329 
Phylacteries, 238 

Picture on the Battle Field, 78 

Pilgrims and their Pitchers, 138 

Plea of the Father, 121 

Poor Irish Peasants, 142 

Power of Imagination, 314 

Praying Little Girl, 182 

Precious Gem, 186 

Pride Must Have a Fall, 176 

Prompt Girl, 90 

Putnam, General Israel, 274 

Quaker and Little Thief, 275 

Quarrelsome Children, 113 

Raft on the Ottawa River, 77 

Rail-road to Gambling, 268 

Recollections of Home Sickness 71 
Red and White Roses, 241 

Remarkable Echoes, 90 

Remarkable Reanimation, 307 

Robin and Children, 235 

Remedy for War, 156 

Ruined Castles, 316 

Russian Exiles, 280 

Russian Lady, 93 

Russian Peasant, 91 


VI 


INDEX 


PAGE. 


Scotland, 192 

Second Hand Sermons 383 

Ships, Building and Launching, 345 

Singular Fashion, 299 

Singular Mode of Counting 

Time, 310 

Sister’s Grave, 105 

Snakes in Australia, 348 

Snow Birds, Anecdote of, 116 

Snow Thoughts, 88 

Song for the Season, 352 

Song of the Zephyrs — Music, 166 

Split Snake, 320 

Spring — Poetry, 141 

Stories about Dogs, 15, 60, 78, 193 

206, 277 

S tormin g a Wasp’ s Nest, 317 

Story of a Lion and Dog, * 193 

Story for Little Children, 172 

Story of a New England Dog, 60 

Taking a Hint, 136 

Taylor, General, 246 

Temptation Resisted, 369 

Testy Schoolmaster, 183 

The Avaricious Miller, 366 

The Brook and the Bubbles, 188 

The Child and Dew Drops, 155 

The Cormorant, 224 

The Curassow, 208 

Theft of an Editor’s Pen, 27 


PAGE. 


The Drummond Light, 382 

The Discontented Pendulum, 384 

The Early Dead, 381 

The Hen and her Chickens, 86 

The Hero — Music, 102 

The Hunter’ s Story, 222 

The Life and times of old Tabby, 360 
The Motto, 210 

The Preacher and the Robbers, 350 

The Reward of Kindness, 359 

The Seasons, 202 

The Spider and the Honey Bee, 21 

The Squirrel, 257 

The Star and the Child, 265 

The Tame Panther, ' 365 

The Transplanted Tree, 9 

The Vine — Poetry, 40 

The Walk, 155 

The Wolf, 189 

The Toll Man’s Family, 29 

The Young Prussian, 368 

Thou Shalt not Steal, 363 

Thoughts about Mining, 203 

Thoughts for Little Folks, 124 

Thoughts of the Little Star-gazer, 181 
To Lavinia in Heaven, 171 

Toothache, Causes of, 47 

Touching Temperance Story, 287 

Traveling in Labrador, 104 

Treasures of Earth — Poetry, 349 

Try, 105 


PAGE. 


Two Schoolmates, 351 

Tyndal, Anecdote of, 333 

Uncle Barnabas, 220, 256 

United States Hotel, Boston, 63 
Unlocking of the Outside Door, 7 
Untidy Girl, 61 

Vacation, Last Summer’s, 72 

Van Ryn, Rembrandt, 322 

Verbal Suffixes, 53 

Visit to my Native Place, 54 

Voice of Nature, 177 

Washington, Anecdote of, 244 

Way to be Happy, 121 

We are all Brethren, 328 

Witchcraft at home and abroad, 285 

297, 3 13 

Wisdom learned from a Horse, 352 
Wood Gathering, 281 

Wonders of Central America, 216 
Working on the Sabbath, 384 

Writing, Eastern mode of, 308 

Young Fisherman, 25 

Young Man and Swallow, 288 
Young Street Sweepers, 88 

Youthful Virtue, 80 

Zanaida Dove, Story of, 137 


PAGE, 

1. Vignette — title page, 1 

2. Sketch in letter-press title page, 3 

3. Theodore with his Quail Trap, 9 

4. The Partridge playing a trick, 9 

5. De Meyer playing before the 

King of France, 13 

6. Newfoundland Dog, 15 

7. Shepherd’s Dog Feeding a 

Lost Child, 17 

8. The Bee outside the Web, 21 

9. The Bee inside the Web, 23 

10. The Gold Pen, 28 

11. Oriental Jewelry, 29 

12. Holyrood Palace and Abbey, 30 

13. The Orphans at Prayer, 39 

14. The Emigrating of the Land 

Crabs, 41 

15. De Meyer playing before the 1 

Sultan, ' 48 

16. The Tiger, * 52 

17. Walter Scott’s Monument, 57 

18. Exploit of a New England dog, 60 

19. The Goshawk, 64 

20. Captain Perry’s Bee Hives, 65 

21. The Homesick Boy, 71 

22. The Great Homed Owl, 75 

23. Ancient Egyptian Deities, 79 

24. The Ibis — an Egyptian Deity, 80 

25. Monument to Dr. Watts, 84 

26. The Hen, with her Chickens, 87 

27. The Russian Peasant, 91 

28. The Russian Lady, 93 

29. The Dance of the Fairies, 106 

30. The Family at Prayer, 110 

31. The Quarrelsome Children, 113 

32. The Convention of Animals, 118 


EteEmsmatEBm 

Page. 


33. The Clove Tree, 123 

34. Varieties of the Butterfly, 128 

35. The Zanaida Dove, 137 

36. The Foolish Calf, 140 

37. The Poor Irish Peasant, 143 

38. The Flying Fish, 147 

39. The Bonito, 147 

40. The Misers’ Death Bed, 152 

41. A Hunting Scene, 157 

42. The Petunia, 161 

43. Parting with old Jack, 168 

44. The Fruit Woman of Nor- 

mandy, 173 

45. The Shepherd in Repose, 177 

46. The Testy Schoolmaster, 183 

47. The Wolf, 190 

48. The Discontented Bittern, 194 

49. Theodore’s First Shot, 199 

50. Statue to Lord Erskine, 201 

51. Inside of a Mine, 204 

52. The Crested Curassow, 208 

53. The Razor-billed Curassow, 209 

54. Ancient Books, 212 

55. Portrait of Edward VI. 215 

56. Ancient Idol in Central Ame- 

rica, 217 

57. Uncle Barnabas walking out, 221 

58. The Cormorant, 224 

59. The Fisherman, 231' 

60. Curious Shells, 234 

61. Phylacteries, 238 

62. The Elephant, 239 

63. Portrait of General Wash- 

ington, 244 


64. Portrait of General Taylor, 246 

65. The Oriental Plane Tree, 249 


PAGE. 

66. Uncle Barnabas working in 

the garden, 256 

67. Earthen Pot from Pompeii, 258 

68. Ancient British Vase, 258 

69. Portrait of Oliver Gnldsmith, 263 

70. Portrait of Captain Cook, 266 

71. A Balloon Ascent, 270 

72. Portrait of General Putnam, 274 

73. Sketch of my Mother in her 

Closet, 276 

74. The Chinese Junk, 278 

75. Egyptian Water Pedlers, 287 

76. The Humming Bird among 

the Flowers, 296 

77. Homs, for a Head Ornament, 299 

78. The Pine of Aleppo, 301 

79. Portrait of Poussin, the 

Painter, 306 

80. Eastern mode of Writing, 308 

81. A Daughter’s Love, 309 

82. The Blacksmith at the F orge, 311 

83. The Bread Fruit, 315 

84. Virginia and her Grandfather 

Reading the Bible, 327 

85. Portrait of Renibrandt Van 

Ryn, 332 

86. The Lign Aloe, 340 

87. Branch of the Olive Tree, 341 

88. A Ship in the process of 

Building, 345 

89. A Ship just after Launching, 347 

90. The Good Girl taking care 

of the Wounded Man. 359 

91. The Tame Panther, 366 

92. Temptation Resisted, 369 

93. The End, 386 


TIEtlS 




The Unlocking of the Outside Door. 


BY THE MAN -WITH THE MAGNET. 


APPREHEND, my 
dear reader, that 
the task of be- 
ginning a book — 
the grouping to- 
gether of some 
of the first let- 
ters and words — 
is not so easy as 
most people ima- 
gine. It is a 
little like start- 
ing a ship on a long voyage. There 
is often a good deal of labor neces- 
sary — some tugging at the oars, it may 
be — after the anchor is weighed, to get 
her out to sea. For my part, I some- 
times find it hard to begin a single 
article, and much more, a volume of 
some hundred pages. Still, every 
book must have a beginning — else it 
would be difficult to make an end to it ; 
and a book without an end would be a 
curiosity, to say the very least of it. 

This point settled, then, that the 
Youth’s Cabinet must have a begin- 
ning, the next thing is to begin it. But 
which of the members of the alphabeti- 
cal family, all of whom are a worthy 
set of fellows, shall take the lead in 
this matter? That is the question; 

Vol. IL 1 


and I have been leaning over my port- 
folio, I know not how long, canvassing 
the merits of the whole brotherhood, 
and thinking which I would summon 
to my aid. 

I confess I could hardly help saying, 
My dear Reader — the idea conveyed 
by these words being uppermost in my 
mind — though it occurs to me that such 
a phrase would be rather inappropriate, 
and perhaps slightly ludicrous, in case 
I should not happen to have any reader 
to my introduction. I have some sus- 
picions that boys and girls generally 
are not very deeply in love with intro- 
ductions and prefaces to books. Be- 
sides, it has become a proverb, almost, 
that nobody reads such things. I be- 
lieve the proverb, however, like many 
others which have found their way 
into the world, is not strictly true; 
and I cherish some hope that my 
young patrons will do nothing in the 
present instance to weaken this belief. 

The truth is, an introduction, of 
some sort, to a book, is about as ne- 
cessary as a door to your dwelling. 
You cannot well get into your house 
without a door. No more can you get 
into a book, decently, without an in- 
troduction. I admit that you can,, as 


8 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


it were, force your way into a book — 
I hope 1 shall be pardoned for any little 
quarrels which my metaphors may 
happen to indulge in, for I find it quite 
impossible to keep peace between them — 
you can force your way into a book, as 
you might into a house, through a win- 
dow, or scuttle,, or even down the 
chimney, if you feel disposed to go 
in that way. But neither of these 
modes of ingress is the most conveni- 
ent and comfortable that could be ima- 
gined, to say nothing about the deco- 
rum of the thing. The proper way to 
enter the dining-room, or library, or 
cabinet, of a book, is through the door — 
the outside door — and the portico, too, 
if there happens to be one. 

Still, I do not like long introductions, 
and think it quite probable that most 
people dislike them. I have had my 
patience sadly , tried before now, with 
some documents of this sort, that I 
have read. I belabored the knocker 
of one lately, for a good round half 
hour. I could mention the name of 
the book, if I chose ; but perhaps the 
author would not thank me for that. 
A huge door it had — a door made of 
iron, and strong enough for any bank 
door in Wall street. It was generous- 
ly provided, too, with bolts, and bars, 
and locks. A precious entertainment 
there must be in that castle, thought I, 
if one should be so fortunate as to effect 
an entrance. But I never was more 
mistaken in my life. The edifice 
proved to be a miserable shell of a 


thing, empty and desolate, and I was 
vexed with myself for trying to get in 
at all. It really seems to me like a 
breach of hospitality to keep a person 
waiting out of doors, perhaps in a 
snow-storm, for the greater part of an 
hour, especially if there is any thing 
for him inside worth mentioning. 

I think, then, that I can count upon 
two of the best reasons in the world 
for not making my introductory chap- 
ter a long one : first, I do not like long 
introductions and prefaces, and second- 
ly, nobody else does. 

It follows, you see, that the second 
volume of the Youth’s Cabinet must 
not only have an introduction, which 
is quite a necessary, or at least a con- 
venient mode of getting into the book, 
but that its introduction should be so 
brief as not to tire any body. So that 
the little folks who are expecting en- 
tertainment at our table, need not fear 
that they will be kept long waiting at 
the outside door. 

In fact, masters and misses, as a 
sort of premium for your patience in 
reading introductions, and this intro- 
duction in particular, I am going to 
push the bolt aside at once, and let 
you in without further ceremony. So 
please to walk in, and make your- 
selves at home among the curiosities 
of the Youth’s Cabinet. I wish you a 
happy new year with all my heart. 
May you be as happy as you are wel- 
come, and may your happiness, too, be 
eternal. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


9 


The Transplanted Tree.* 

BY THEODORS? THINKER. 


t doubt if it be well to live a great 
deal in the past — perhaps it is a 
waste of time to do so— yet I con- 
fess I sometimes find my mind 
disposed to play truant, and to go back 
with electrical speed to some bright 
spot in my history far behind. Nor 
is it always content with a single scene 
or a single epoch of history. What a 
curious chain there is in the mind — 
the chain of association ! How, when 
the current of thought touches it some- 
times, will the memory traverse thou- 
sands of links in that chain! The 
sight of a single tree or flower, with 
which I was familiar when a little 
child, will often suggest the scenes 
once connected with them, and picture 
them so vividly on the canvass of the 
mind, as to overwhelm me with emotion. 

“ Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, 
That in a few short moments I retrace, 

As in a map the voyager his course, 

The windings of my way through many years.” 

It was thus with me the other day, 
when I strolled away from the busy 
city, and visited the old mansion which 
was my home when a child. A thou- 
sand recollections, many of which had 
slumbered for years, were called up 
one by one, as I gazed on each well 
remembered object. Among these ob- 
jects, none perhaps was dearer to me 
than a tree near the garden gate. Let 
me tell you something about that tree. 

Near my father’s house was a beau- 
tiful meadow, and a little beyond, 
divided by a stream of water, which 


# See tne engraved title-page. 


ran laughingly along over its bed of 
bright pebbles, was a forest. There I 
used to 'set my trap for the quails, that 



THEODORE WITH HIS QUAIL-TRAP. 


sung “more wheat,” when my father 
thought they had stolen already more 
than he well knew how to spare. 
Poor fellows ! I never could forgive 
myself for the havoc I made among 
them. They were great rogues, though. 
That thought is some little consolation 
to me. 



THE PARTRIDGE, PLAYING A TRICK. 


There, too, I have been outwitted a 
dozen times by the cunning partridge. 
When she has a nest, and sees a boy 
coming, she will cover up the nest 
carefully with leaves, and, without 
making the least noise, walk away 
several rods. Then she will make a 


10 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


great ado around that spot, as if her 
treasures were concealed there. I 
never yet had the wit to discover a 
partridge’s nest, though I have spent 
hours in looking for them in those 
woods. 

My mother — a dear, devoted mother, 
now in heaven — used, while the flowers 
were in bloom, to walk with me and 
my brother in the meadow, and some- 
times, if the water was not too deep in 
the brook, we would cross over into 
the woods. My mother took great 
pleasure in the works of nature, and 
loved to tell her children about them. 
She taught us a great deal in these 
rambles. Children are always delight- 
ed with flowers, I believe. At any 
rate, this love is very natural, and is 
easily fostered; and I am sure I can- 
not remember the time when I was not 
charmed by a group of flowers. My 
mother, taking advantage of this, used 
often to lead our minds from the beau- 
tiful things which God had made, up 
to God himself. 

‘One day we were walking in the 
woods, in the spring of the year. The 
flowers had just begun to bloom, and 
the forest trees were just starting into 
new life. We sat down under the 



THE ACORN. 


shade of an old oak. My mother took 
up an acorn, and told us that the great 
tree, whose branches were so high 
above our heads, was once a little 


acorn, like the one in her hand, and 
that God made it grow so large. She 
talked to us a good while about it ; and 
I do not know that I was ever more 
deeply impressed with the wisdom and 
goodness of God than when I was 
listening to those familiar illustrations. 

Not far from where we sat, was a 
young oak, scarcely taller than my 
head, which, with our mother’s help, 
we dug up carefully and carried home. 
This little tree we planted in the yard, 
and I need scarcely say that this was 
the one which interested me so much, 
when, after an absence of years, I 
visited the spot again. I remember every 
little incident connected with the trans- 
planting of that tree, so deep was the 
impression made upon my mind. I re- 
member how merry the birds were ; and 
I was as merry as they, and so was my 
brother, the sharer of all my pleasures. 
My dear mother, with her needle-work, 
was sitting under one of the fruit trees 
in the yard — it was a favorite spot of 
hers, when the earth was clothed in 
its summer robes — a little sister was 
chasing the butterflies from flower to 
flower, and filling her apron the while 
with dandelions. My mother seemed 
happy, too — how intimately was her 
happiness connected with her child- 
ren — but a worm was then secretly 
preying upon her heart, which soon 
brought her to the grave. I have * 
often wondered if she had not at the 
time received some warning that her 
end was near. While we were plant- 
ing the tree, with her face all lighted 
up with smiles of love, she said, “If 
this tree should live, children, it will 
remind you of your dear mother, will 
it not ? I may go where my heavenly 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


11 


Father is, and leave you by and by ; 
but when you see this oak stretching 
its arms up toward heaven, you will 
think of me. You will think of me, 
when its leaves tremble in the summer 
breeze, and when the blast of winter 
mourns over its leafless branches. I 
know you will remember your dear 
mother then; you will remember the 
lessons I have taught you, and try to 
be good and love the Savior.” 

Were these words prophetic? She 
never sat in her favorite bower again ! 
Her disease soon assumed an alarming 
form — her sun went down while it 
was yet day — she died — died, com- 
mending her children to the God w r ho 
sustained her in that trying hour. 

That tree — that transplanted tree — 
was green and flourishing, when I vi- 
sited the old homestead. I sat beneath 
its shadow, and listened to the robin that 
sang his plantive air upon its branches. 
As I sat there, a deluge of thoughts 
connected with that dear departed one, 
rushed into my mind. My mother had 
a deep hold of my young affections, 
and she bore them with her to her 
heavenly abode. Every object with 
which she used to be familiar is conse- 
crated, almost, in my heart. That hum- 
ble, old-fashioned cottage, now 'tottering 
with age, I love it because it was once 
her home. It seems too sacred even for 
the fingers of time to touch. Oh ! she 
was a fond and tender mother. How 
perfectly is her image impressed on my 
memor}'. Though long years have 
rolled away, I seem, as I linger here, 
where she dwelt, I seem to hear the 
music of her sweet voice again, and to 
commune with her as I was wont to do 
ere her spirit departed. 


“ I loved her much ; but now I love her more ; 
Like birds, whose beauties languish, half con- 
ceal’d, 

Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes 
Expanded, shine with azure, green, and gold , 
How blessings brighten as they take their 
flight ! 

Her flight my mother took, her upward flight, 
If ever soul ascended.” 

Dear reader, have you a mother — a 
kind, affectionate mother? If so, you 
have one of the richest blessings ever 
bestowed on a child. Love and cherish 
her, then. Listen to her counsels and 
advice. Take care you do not grieve 
her by your thoughtlessness. Learn to 
acquiesce in all she says ; and whether 
or not she bows with you at the mercy- 
seat, as my mother was wont to do with 
her children, learn to place your confi- 
dence in Him who loves you with a 
tenderness which even a mother’s heart 
never felt. 


The Careless Girl. 

From "A Gift for my Daughter," an unpublished work, 
by the Author of the ■* Young Lady's Guide." 

he careless girl is always unfortu- 
nate. If she goes into the kitchen, 
to assist about the work, she 
splashes the water on the wall ; 
drops oil on the floor ; spills fat in the 
fire; scorches her clothes; burns her 
cakes; breaks the crockery; or cuts 
her fingers with the carving-knife. If 
directed to sweep the keeping-room, she 
oversets a lamp, or brushes off a table- 
cover, and sends Bibles and hymn books 
sprawling on the floor. Or, if passing 
through the parlor, she swings her dress 
against the centre-table and brushes off 
the costly books, bruising their fancy 



12 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


binding, and soiling their gilt edges. 
Every where she goes, something is 
found in ruins. The trouble is, she 
does not think — she does not observe — or 
else her thoughts and observation are on 
something besides what is before her. 
She does not mind what she is doing — 
she does not look to see what she steps 
on, nor whether her hands have firm 
hold on the article she takes up. If 
she passes through a door, she does not 
mind whether it was open or shut ; and 
most likely, if she finds it open in a 
warm summer’s day, she will close it ; 
but if she finds it carefully shut on a 
freezing day in mid-winter, she will 
leave it wide open. 

By indulging such habits as these, an 
amiable girl, who might otherwise be 
beloved, becomes the dread of all her 
acquaintances. 


Leopold de Meyer. 

f E have been to hear the world- 
renowned pianist, Leopold de 
Meyer. We are no great pro- 
ficient either in the science or 
art of music. We have a pretty gene- 
rous share of love for the “ concord of 
sweet sounds,” and some grains of 
“ music in the soul.” That is about all 
we can claim. We are no musical 
critic. We cannot talk very scienti- 
fically about adagios and smorzandos. 
But we must tell our friends — or try to 
tell them, at least — how this remarkable 
man entertained us. 

The concert was held in the Broad- 
way Tabernacle. He had a very popu- 
lar and select company of musicians to 
assist him. Burke was there, with the 


violin, from which he draws out such 
charming strains. He is a musical 
wonder, by the way. Then there was 
a large and excellent orchestra besides, 
and some five solo singers. But every 
note, vocal and instrumental, that was 
not made by De Meyer’s fingers, seemed 
only a foil to exhibit this artist’s astonish- 
ing feats to greater advantage. We call 
these performances astonishing. As- 
tonishment, we think, is the prevailing 
impression which every pne feels who 
listens to his strains, especially for the 
first time. 

The hour of eight was the time at 
which the concert was to commence. 
But before seven, so great and so gene- 
ral was the anxiety to hear the man, 
that a large proportion of the seats in 
that immense edifice were filled. Seve- 
ral pieces were performed by the or- 
chestra before the lion pianist appeared. 
When he took his seat at the piano, the 
audience greeted him with the most en- 
thusiastic applause. He commenced. 
At first, his notes were like the war- 
bling of birds, or the distant murmurs 
of a waterfall. Still there was nothing 
charming, nothing soothing or melting, 
in the music. We can only account 
for this by the fact, that there was 
another feeling — that of wonder and 
astonishment — so strong in the mind, 
that it absorbed every other. As he 
proceeded, and his performance became 
more rapid and earnest, it seemed as if 
a whole Niagara of music was pouring 
from his instrument. The effect of his 
effort, upon our mind — we speak for no 
one else — was still the same, as his 
fingers fluttered, like the wings of the 
humming-bird, over the keys of the in- 
strument, every moment accomplishing 


LEOPOLD DE MEYER PERFORMING- BEFORE THE KING OF THE FRENCH. 


♦ 








14 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


new feats and conquering new difficul- 
ties — attempting deeds of daring never 
dreamed of before, and succeeding only 
to attempt another more difficult and 
dangerous, — the sympathy of the mind 
with the performer was even painful. 
One felt as he would, if he beheld a 
madman attempting to balance himself 
on a chain, stretched across a deep and 
frightful gulf. We were actually glad 
when the artist had finished his first 
piece, and rose from the piano. We 
felt relieved when we saw him out of 
danger. 

But when he returned to the instru- 
ment again, there was still a trembling 
anxiety, which we did not overcome 
during the whole evening. There was 
still the fear, that though he had escaped 
a great many perils, his rashness would 
yet be his ruin. But the most wonder- 
ful thing in this whole exhibition of 
wonders, was, that the performer seemed 
perfectly unaware that he was attempt- 
ing any extraordinary exploit. While 
engaged in executing some of his most 
brilliant passages, he would withdraw 
his eyes, and apparently his thoughts, 
from the piano-board, and look round 
upon the audience, to tell them by his 
smile how much he valued their appro- 
bation. When he rose from the piano, 
at the end of each performance, he was 
greeted with a profusion of bouquets 
and wreaths of flowers. 

In his department of musical genius, 
we suppose Leopold de Meyer is the 
wonder of the age. At any rate, we 
never dreamed before we heard him, 
that it was possible to accomplish such 
feats on the piano. But we are making 
a long article, and must reserve the re- 
mainder of our remarks for another time. 


Farewell to my Mother. 

From " Alderbrook," by Fanny Forbestbb. 

Give me my old seat, Mother, 

With my head upon thy knee ; 

I’ve passed through many a changing scene 
Since thus I sat by thee : 

Oh ! let me look into thine eyes — 

Their meek, soft, loving light 
Falls like a gleam of holiness 
Upon my heart to-night. 

I’ve not been long away, Mother ; 

F ew suns have rose and set 
Since last the tear-drop on thy cheek 
My lips in kisses met : 

’Tis but a little time, I know, 

But very long it seems ; 

Though every night I came to thee, 

Dear Mother, in my dreams. 

The world has kindly dealt, Mother, 

By the child thou lov’st so well ; 

Thy prayers have circled round her path. 
And ’twas their holy spell 
Which made that path so dearly bright, 
Which strewed the roses there, — 
Which gave the light and cast the balm 
On every breath of air. 

I bear a happy heart, Mother — 

A happier never beat ; 

And, even now, new buds of hope 
Are bursting at my feet. 

Oh, Mother ! life may be a dream ; 

But if such dreams are given 
While at the portal thus we stand, 

What are the truths of Heaven ! 

I bear a happy heart, Mother; 

Yet, when fond eyes I see, 

And hear soft tones and winning words, 

I ever think of thee : 

And then, the tear my spirit weeps 
Unbidden fills my eye, 

And, like a homeless dove, I long 
Unto thy breast to fly. 

Then I am very sad, Mother; 

I’m very sad and lone ; 

Oh ! there’s no heart whose inmost fold 
Opes to me like thine own ! 

Though sunny smiles wreathe blooming lips 
While love-tones meet my ear ; 

My Mother, one fond glance of thine 
Were thousand times more dear 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


15 



Stories about Dogs. 


W hen we began, in the last volume 
of the Cabinet, to tell our 
readers some anecdotes which 
we had picked up about dogs, 
we had no idea that we should spin 
out so long a yarn on the subject. 
But our readers, we found, were de- 
lighted with these stories, and so we 
determined to go on telling them. 
We do not wonder much, that the little 
folks are so fond of hearing about the 
dog. He is one of the noblest and 
most intelligent of the brute creation. 
Besides, he is affectionate, and confi- 
ding, and faithful. He possesses a 
great many traits of character — if we 
may talk about character in connection 
with any of the lower animals — 
which every body loves. No wonder 
he is so much admired — no wonder 
the history of his race is so unusually 
interesting. Now, we love to please 


our readers. Nothing delights us so 
much, especially if we can do them 
good and please them at the same time, 
as we think we can do by making 
them acquainted with the wonderful 
achievements of the dog. This being 
the case, we have a great mind to 
hunt up a few more stories. The 
book from which we have quoted so 
freely, is not quite exhausted, we be- 
lieve ; and if it should fail, we have a 
pretty respectable budget of stories 
about dogs in our own country, which 
would be worth telling. 

By the way, have you heard what 
a dog accomplished at the time the 
steamer Rhode Island went ashore in 
a storm? Somebody ought to take 
that fellow’s portrait, and have it put 
up in our cabinet of curiosities. We 
have not heard him described very 
particularly; but think that the cun- 


16 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


ning-looking personage at the head 
of this article, is not a bad likeness. 
Last autumn — we must tell this story, 
though some of our young friends may 
have read it in the newspapers at the 
time the facts took place — last autumn, 
the mail steamer Rhode Island went 
ashore on Long Island, in a gale. 
She was on her way from Providence 
to this city. The waves were very 
high, and dashed over the steamer 
with great fury. The captain wanted 
to communicate with the men on the 
shore, but the sea was so high, that it 
was dangerous to trust a small boat, 
and he could not make the people hear, 
the waves made such a noise. So the 
captain wrote a letter to the men on 
the shore, and another to be sent by 
land to New York. These letters he 
placed in a bottle, which he threw' 
overboard, hoping it would drift ashore. 
But the experiment was unsuccessful. 
Then he put two more letters, like the 
first, into another bottle, and tied the 
bottle to an empty barrel. These he 
threw overboard. Instead of going 
ashore, however, they floated some 
distance westward. The people fol- 
lowed along on the beach ; and one 
man, who owned a pretty shrewd and 
obliging dog, sent him out after the 
floating letters. The dog reached the 
barrel, and caught hold of the cord. 
Poor fellow ! he tried hard to bring 
both the barrel and the bottle ashore ; 
but failing in this, he gnawed off the 
string, and brought the bottle, which, 
of course, contained the letters. 

After all, the Shepherd’s dog, so 
called, seems to be about as sagacious 
as any of >his race; and there is a 
capital anecdote in our favorite book, 


about a dog of this kind in Scotland. 
Here is the story, with a fine picture 
engraved on purpose for it. 

The valleys, or glens, as they are 
called by the natives, which intersect 
the Grampians, a ridge of rocky and 
precipitous mountains in the northern 
part of Scotland, are chiefly inhabited 
by shepherds. As the pastures over 
which each flock is permitted to range, 
extend many miles in every direction, 
the shepherd never has a view of his 
whole flock at once, except when it is 
collected for the purpose of sale or 
shearing. His occupation is to make 
daily visits to the different extremities 
of his pastures in succession, and to 
turn back, by means of his dog, any 
stragglers that may be approaching 
the boundaries of his neighbors. 

In one of these excursions, a shep- 
herd happened to carry along with him 
one of his children, an infant about 
three years old.. After traversing his 
pastures for some time, attended by 
his dog, the shepherd found himself 
under the necessity of ascending a 
summit at some distance to have a 
more extended view of his range. As 
the ascent was too fatiguing for his 
child, he left him on a small plain at 
the bottom, with strict injunctions not 
to stir from it till his return. Scarce- 
ly, however, had he gained the summit, 
when the horizon was suddenly dark- 
ened by one of . those impenetrable 
mists which frequently descend so ra- 
pidly amidst these mountains, as, in 
the space of a few minutes, almost to 
turn day into night. The anxious 
father instantly hastened back to find 
his child ; but, owing to the unusual 
darkness, and his own trepidation, he 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


17 


unfortunately missed his way in the 
descent. After a fruitless search of 
many hours amongst the dangerous 
morasses and cataracts with which 
these mountains abound, he was at 
length overtaken by night. Still wan- 


dering on without knowing whither, 
he at length came to the verge of 
the mist, and, by the light of the 
moon, discovered that he had reached 
the bottom of the valley, and was 
now within a short distance of his 



cottage. To renew the search that 
night was equally fruitless and dan- 
gerous. He was therefore obliged to 
return home, having lost both his child 
and his dog, which had attended him 
faithfully for years. 

Next morning by day-break, the 
shepherd, accompanied by a band of 
his neighbors, set out again to seek 
his child; but, after a day spent in 
fruitless fatigue, he was at last com- 
pelled by the approach of night to de- 
scend from the mountain. On return- 
ing to his cottage, he found that the 
cog whieh he had lost the day before, 
had been home, and, on receiving a 
piece of cake, had instantly gone off 
again. For several successive days 


the shepherd renewed the search for 
his child, and still, on returning in the 
evening disappointed to his cottage, he 
found that the dog had been there, 
and, on receiving his usual allowance 
of cake, had instantly disappeared. 
Struck with this singular circumstance, 
he remained at , home one day, and 
when the dog, as usual, departed with 
his piece of cake, he resolved to fol- 
low him, and find out the cause of 
this strange procedure. The dog led 
the way to a cataract at some distance 
from the spot where the shepherd had 
left his child. The banks of the wa- 
terfall almost joined at the top, yet 
separated by an abyss of immense 
depth, presented that abrupt appear- 


A SHEPHERD'S DOG, FEEDING A LOST CHILD. 


18 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


ance which so often astonishes and 
appals the traveller amidst the Gram- 
pian mountains, and indicates that these 
stupendous chasms were not the silent 
work of time, but the sudden effect of 
some violent convulsion of the earth. 
Down one of these rugged and almost 
perpendicular descents the dog began, 
without hesitation, to make his way, 
and at last disappeared in a cave, the 
mouth of which was almost upon a 
level with the torrent. The shepherd 
with difficulty followed ; but, on enter- 
ing the cave, what were his emotions, 
when he beheld his infant eating with 
much satisfaction the cake which the 
dog had just brought him, while the 
faithful animal stood by, eyeing his 
young charge with the utmost com- 
placence. 

From the situation in which the child 
was found, it appeared that he had 
wandered to the brink of the precipice, 
and either fallen or scrambled down 
till he reached the cave, which the 
dread of the torrent had afterwards 
prevented him from quitting. The 
dog, by means of his scent, had traced 
him to the spot, and afterwards pre- 
vented him from starving by giving up 
to him his own daily allowance. Pie 
appears never to have quitted the child 
by night or day, except when it was 
necessary to go for its food, and then he 
was always seen running at full speed 
to and from the cottage. 


“ If you wish to be happy, keep 
busy ; idleness is harder work than 
plowing, a good deal. There is more 
fun in sweating an hour, than there 
is in yawning a century.” 


The Blind Boy’s Return. 

8 took him at first for a young man 
just returned from sea; and, un- 
der pretence of breathing my horse, 
I stopped at the foot of the hill, to 
witness his reception, after, as I sup- 
posed, his long absence. He had just 
darted away from the old man’s side, 
who seemed to be calling his attention 
to some domestic animals thronging 
around the cottage gate, as if he was 
essaying to temper the sudden ecstasy 
that was palpitating in the full heart of 
the boy,- by introducing, for a share in 
his affection, those minor objects of in- 
terest. But it would not do ; the old 
house dog, that once crouched down by 
his cradle, now fawned upon him in 
vain for a kind, recognizing expression 
of his eye ; he heard nothing — saw 
nothing, save a fair-haired girl, whose 
glossy ringlets swam back on the breeze 
as she darted down the green bank, and 
threw her arms about his neck, and 
bathed his cheek with her tears. 

In the back-ground of the scene — in 
the door of their little cabin, stood his 
infirm old mother, while big, renovated 
drops of joy, trickled through the check 
apron which she held to her streaming 
eyes. My heart smote me for looking 
in upon a private scene of joy with a 
stranger’s eye : although unobserved by 
that little group, whose hearts were 
melting and mingling in that reciprocal 
flood of affection, that gushed up from 
the deep, treasuring fountains of the 
soul. It was after the first long em- 
brace of son and brother — after the first 
wild, trembling thrill of joy had flitted 
across the swelling heart, that I observed 
the youth standing in the middle of the 


THE SOUTH’S CABINET. 


19 


group, holding in one hand the shrivel- 
led fingers of his aged mother, and in 
the other, the little white hand of his 
beautiful sister; while his father — his 
old gray-headed father, with his breast 
full and overfraught with the swelling 
current of joy, rested his head upon the 
shoulder of his son. There was a mo- 
ment, when the humid eye alone was 
eloquent; and while that of the boy 
was passing from the lovely form and 
features of his blooming sister, to the 
care-worn countenance of his mother, I 
thought I could discern a change come 
over his face. As he looked upon the 
lovely girl who was standing before him 
with tears glistening in her eyes, an 
effable expression of pride beamed in 
his countenance. But that she had in- 
creased in stature and loveliness, she 
was the same as when years agone, she 
made his companion throughout the live- 
long day ; the same as when once they 
fostered the flowers of their garden in 
the freshness of the morning, or sported 
by the streamlet at noon, or sauntered 
out into the fields at evening to drive the 
heifer home, or climbed the green hills, 
to see the big red sun go down in the 
west. No blighting mildew or searing 
frost had fallen upon her, to canker or 
bleach the rose of her cheek, and chill 
the wild, warm pulse of childhood. She 
was his, and the same garden, the same 
brook, the field and the grove were 
theirs, where they might retrace the 
steps of former years. He was satis- 
fied ; and he turned to his mother to see 
if the hand of time had dealt as lightly 
with her ; but there he could perceive 
a gloomy change, and his countenance 
fell. The burden of years of anxiety, 
sorrow, and affliction, had bowed her 


down, and there were indices in her 
holjow cheek and eye, which convinced 
him, that she had made many steps to 
wards her long home during his absence. 
While he was regarding her with a 
troubled eye, I fancied he was inquiring 
within himself, if some of the furrows in 
her sallow cheek, had not been deepened 
by his long absence ; if maternal anxiety 
had not roughened her forehead with 
the premature wrinkles of age ; if fear- 
ful solicitude for his welfare, lest he 
should sicken and die in a stranger’s 
land ; if sleepless unremitted fears, lest 
her only son should be swallowed up by 
the surging billows of the ocean, had 
not dimmed her eye, and multiplied the 
number of her gray hairs. 

Standing in my eye in the character 
of an adventurous sailor, I thought he 
would fain inquire, if at times she had 
not wrestled with her God with uncom- 
mon fervor for his safety; if often, 
when, in the blackening night-storm, 
the blearing lightnings of heaven had 
well nigh smitten him into the abyss, 
from his hold upon the rotten rope ; if, 
when the formless, mountain surge broke 
down upon their frail bark, and swept 
his quaking comrades from his side, — 
if then she. had not gone out, and called 
upon “ Him who holdeth the winds in 
his fist, and the lightnings in the hollow 
of his hand,” to spare her boy. 

But what made me take him for a 
sailor ? He wore no tarpaulin, nor was 
his face burned by a torrid sun, or 
browned by a constant exposure to the 
winds. No, he had never seen the 
mighty ocean, or heard its roar ; he had 
not seen any material object for ten 
long years. During that period, he had 
never seen the face of his mother, though 


20 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


he often felt her tears on his cheek, as 
she smoothed his pillow, and taught,, him 
to say his prayers at evening. The 
voice of his father fell daily upon his ear, 
whether he heard it in the morning de- 
votions, or listened to it among the reap- 
ers at harvest ; yet, he had not seen his 
face, or known when it was lighted up 
with a smile of pleasure, or clouded by 
care. He had lived through a long, 
long, starless night. The sun arose 
and set, but he had no perception of its 
presence, save when warmed by its 
summer rays. True, he was ap- 
prised of the morning's dawn, by the 
voice of his sister, who would lead him 
out into their little garden ; yet, though 
the flowers she culled for him, were the 
fairest and sweetest, their carmine and 
lily tints were hidden from his sight, 
nor could he see the hand that put them 
in his, nor the eye that always was 
moistened with a tear, as it looked upon 
a blind and only brother. 

But now the blackness of darkness, 
wviich had so long veiled the great sun, 
the “silver moon,” the beauty of the 
fields, and the glories of the sky, and 
all the objects once pleasant and dear to 
his eyes, had broken away, and the 
magnificence of the universe, and the 
sight of friends were all ushered into 
one sudden, comprehensive and blissful 
vision. He had just returned from one 
of our large cities, where, by a delicate 
and successful operation, an experienced 
oculist had removed from his eyes a 
darker veil than that of common night ; 
and, in the inexpressible rapture of a 
being just resuming a long-suspended 
existence, the boy had come back, to 
gladden that little way-side cottage with 
his presence, and to feast his eyes upon 


the faces and forms of those who, in the 
long, Egyptian night of his blindness, 
had hung over him from morning till 
evening, like invisible ministering spirits 
from another world . — Elihu Burritt. 


A lesson in Tenderness. 

8 once asked John W. Edmonds, 
one of the inspectors of Sing 
Sing Prison, how it was that a 
Wall-street lawyer, brought into 
sharp collision with the world, had 
preserved so much tenderness of heart. 
“My mother was a Quakeress,” said 
he, “ and a serious conversation she 
had with me when I was four or five 
years old, has affected my whole life. 

I had joined some boys who were worry- 
ing a kitten. We finally killed her. 
When I came into the house I told 
my mother what we had done. She 
took me on her lap and talked to me 
in such moving style about my cruelty 
to the poor, helpless, little animal, that 
I sobbed as if my heart would break. 
Afterwards, if I was tempted to do any 
thing unkind, she would tell me to re- 
member how sorry I was for having ■« 
hurt the poor little kitten. I never 
forgot that circumstance. For a long 
time after, I could not think of it with- 
out tears. It impressed me so deeply, 
that when I became a man, I could 
never see a forlorn suffering wretch 
run down by his fellow-beings, without 
thinking of that hunted and pelted little 
beast. Even now the ghost of that kit- 
ten and the recollection of my dear mo- 
ther’s gentle lessons, come between me 
and the prisoners at Sing Sing, and for- 
ever admonish me to be humane and for- 
bearing.” — Mrs. Child . 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


21 


The Spider and the Honey-Bee: 

A FABLE FOR MANY IN GENERAL, AND SOME. IN PARTICULAR. 
BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 


I. 

A Bee who had chased after pleasure all day, 
And homeward was lazily wending his way, 

F ell in with a Spider, who called to the Bee : 
“ Good evening ! I trust you are well,” said he. 



THE BEE OUTSIDE THE WEB. 
II. 


The Bee was quite happy to stop awhile there — 

For Indolence always has moments to spare — 

“ Good evening !” he said, with a very low bow, 

“My health, sir, alas! ’tis quite delicate now. 

III. 

From spring until autumn, from morning till night, 

I’m obliged to be toiling with all my might. — 

My labors are wearing me out, and you know, 

I might as well starve, as to kill myself so.” 

IV. 

The Spider pretended to pity the Bee — 

For a cunning old hypocrite Spider was he — 

“ I am sorry to see you so ill,” he said ; 

And he whispered his wife, “ He will have to be bled.* 


22 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


v. 

^‘Sorne people — perhaps they are wiser than I — 

Some people are in a great hurry to die ; 

Excuse me, but candor compels me to say, 

’Tis wrong to be throwing one’s life away. 

VI. 

Your industry, sir, it may do very welL 

For the beaver’s rude hut, or the honey-bee’s cell ; 

But it never would suit a gay fellow like me ; 

I love to be idle — I love to be free. 

VII. 

This hoarding of riches — this wasting of time, 

In robbing the gardens and fields — ’tis a crime ! 

And then to be guilty of suicide, too ! 

I tremble to think what a miser will do.” 

\ 

VIII. 

’Tis strange the poor Bee was so stupid and blind. — 

* Mister Spider,” said he, “ you have spoken my mind J 
There’s something within me, that seems to say, 

I have toiled long enough, and ’tis time to play. 


IX. 

But how in the world shall I manage to live ? 

I might beg all my life, and nobody would give. 
’Tis easy enough to be merry and sing, 

But living on air is a different thing.” 

X. 

The Spider was silent, and looked very grave— 
’Twas a habit he had — the scheming old knave 
No Spider, intent on his labor of love, 

Had more of the serpent, or less of the dove. 


XI. 

“ To serve you would give me great pleasure,” said he ; 
Come into my palace, and tarry with me ; 

The Spider knows nothing of labor and care.’ — 

Come, you shall be welcome our bounty to share. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


i.3 

XII. 

I live like a king, and my wife like a queen, 

In meadows where flowers are blooming and green ; 

’Tis sweet on the violet’s bosom to lie, 

And list to the stream that runs merrily by. 

XIII. 

With us you shall mingle in scenes of delight, 

All summer and winter, from morning till night ; 

And when ’neath the hills the sun sinks in the west, 

Your head on a pillow o£ roses shall rest. 



THE BEE INSIDE THE WEB. 


XIV. 

When miserly Bees shall return from their toils, 
If you will decoy them, we’ll feast on the spoils — 
I’ll lighten their burdens — I ought to know how — 
My pantry is full of such gentlemen now.” 


XV. 

The Bee did not wait to be urged any more, 

But nodded his thanks, as he entered the door. — 

“ Aha !” said the Spider, “ I have you at last.”' 

And he caught the poor urchin, and soon made him fast* 
I* 


VOL. II. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


34 

XVI. 

The Bee, when aware of his perilous fate, 

Recovered his wit, though a r.oment too late. — 

“O treacherous Spider! for shame!” said he, 

“Is it thus you betray a poor, innocent Bee?” 

XVII. 

The cunning old Spider ther laughed outright ; 

■** Poor fellow !” he said, “ you are in a sad plight ! 

Ha ! ha ! what a dunce you must be to suppose 
That the heart of a Spider should pity your woes l 

xvii:. 

I never could boast of much honor or shame, 

Tho’ a little acquainted with both by name ; 

B ut I think if the Bees can a brother betray, 

Th at Spiders are quite as good people as they. 

xix. . 

On the whole, you have lived long enough, I opine 5 
So now, by your leave, I will hasten to dine ; 

You’ll m&Jke a good dinner, it must be confess’d, 

And the world, I am thinking, will pardon the resk* 

XX. 

A lesson for every one, little and great, 

Is taught in this vagabond’s tragical fate : 

Of him who is scheming your friend to ensnare, 
Unless you ’ve a passicn for bleeding, beware ! 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


25 


The Young Fishermen. 

BY MRS. E. A. COMSTOCK. 

S n a lone cabin on the eastern shore 
of Nova Scotia, lived a very poor 
but industrious woman, with her 
three sons. Her husband also 
lived there a part of his time, but as 
he was an idle man, he generally loi- 
tered day and night around a store 
two miles from his house. Here, 
among a great variety of useful goods, 
was also every sort of spirituous liquors, 
of which he was very fond. His cabin 
stood on a high bluff, which was worn 
smooth at its base, by the constant 
dashing of the ocean against it. His 
wife earned considerable by making 
nets for the. fishermen on the coast. 
No doubt our young readers are aware, 
that much of the wealth of that coun- 
try is made by sending fish to other 
places. Many vessels are employed 
in carrying away dried or preserved 
fish from Nova Scotia. Small villages 
inhabited entirely by fishermen, lie along 
the sea-shore, two or three miles apart. 
These people are somewhat coarse in 
their manners, but generally honest, and 
temperate. The three sons of this wo- 
man were young, the oldest being but 
twelve, yet they were industrious and 
helpful. Their mother had been well 
educated, and amid all her cares found 
time to teach them to read, and to give 
them lessons in other branches of educa- 
tion. More than all, she taught them to 
be honest and truthful. Reduced by 
her husband’s beastly selfishness to her 
present lowly life, she patiently toiled 
for her children who learned from her 
example to bear every privation heroic- 


ally. These lads were young fishermen, 
and every cent they earned they carried 
to their beloved mother. One of their 
favorite employments was catching wild 
birds, which resorted in great numbers 
to the rocky shore. They are highly 
esteemed for bait. In some seasons of 
the year they are more easily caught 
than in others, but at all times it requires 
much skill and perseverance to entrap 
them. 

To some, it may seem cruel work ; 
these lads did not think it so ; on the con- 
trary, they were glad to earn money for 
their mother, in what seemed to them a 
very necessary employment. 

The winters at Nova Scotia are much 
colder than ours. The snow is deeper 
and lies longer on the earth. Clad in 
thick coats, these boys cared little for 
the cold. They liked the deep snow of 
which they made gigantic men and 
horses. • 

One very cold evening in mid- winter, 
their mother sat by her fire netting and 
thinking of her sons who had gone in 
their boat to sell some nets, and staid 
longer than usual. 

Her husband was stretched in drunk- 
en slumber in one corner of the room. 
In the other stood a small table, but the 
humble meal upon it was still untasted, 
for the good mother waited for her chil- 
dren to share it with her. She arose 
and looked out of the window. It was 
morning, and she could not see the 
ocean, the flakes fell so large and thick- 
ly. The wind shook the casements 
roughly. Every thing around betoken- 
ed one.of those terrible snow storms so 
common in that dreary country. As 
evening deepened into night, the anxious 
mother walked the floor, trembling fof 


26 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


her children. The huge logs crackled 
on the hearth, but their ruddy light 
shone not on the bright countenances 
of her sons. Once she tried to arouse 
her husband, but in vain ; he lay, like 
a corpse, in his drunken stupor. Turn- 
ing bitterly from him, the poor woman 
threw on her cloak, and hurried down 
to the shore. She paused to listen for 
the stroke of their oars, but the boom- 
ing Waves alone answered her. The 
sea-gull was screaming from amid the 
pointed rocks which were already white 
with snow. On she hurried to the 
nearest village. Blinded by the snow, 
and half frozen with the intense cold, 
she entered one of the cabins, two 
miles from her own. But she heard 
no tidings of he? children. In vain 
the bir.a wotnai entreated her to return 
and wait for them. The men of this 
village were all absent ; so alone and 
sad, the half-frantic mother faced the 
storm again, and hurried to the next 
hamlet. The snow was rapidly fall- 
ing, and the air seemed congealed. 
Love had so far given strength to her 
heart and frame, but nature at last 
yielded. She sank exhausted on the 
snow. 

Next morning the drunkard awoke. 
He was cold, so he arose to call his wife, 
but his cabin was tenantless. The fire 
was dying on the hearth, and the beds 
were undisturbed. The table was still 
in the corner, and a large cat, a family 
pet, sat in a chair by it, patiently wait- 
ing to be fed. He saw something was 
amiss ; so he walked as fast as he could 
to the store, to inquire after his family. 
We will leave him there, and return to 
his three sons. They had gone some 
ten miles to one of the larger hamlets, to 


dispose of their nets. Here Several 
vessels were anchored to receive a sup- 
ply of fish. Pleased with the boys, one 
of the captains took them on board, and 
presented each with a nice book, besides 
some other articles. 

On returning to their boat, they found 
that the sky had been suddenly over- 
cast and that a storm was approaching. 
They made all haste to reach home be- 
fore it came on, but in spite of their ex- 
ertions it overtook them, and they were 
obliged to steer at random through the 
storm, for the land was not visible from 
the sea. They perceived that they 
were in imminent peril, but faltered not. 
Their garments, although warrr., wdre 
but a poor defence against the atmo- 
sphere of such a night. At Iasi much 
exhausted they determined to steer as 
well as they could for the shore, and 
soon had the pleasure of hearing the 
keel grate on the sand. They were 
obliged to wade through the water some 
distance, and the youngest declared he 
could go no further. There was a 
deserted cabin near by. Its tall chim- 
neys loomed up in the dark, and were 
hailed by the older boys with delight. 
They carried the youngest there, but 
knew not that he was dying. Wet to 
the skin and faint with toil, the poor 
boys laid down close to each other to 
keep warm. Alas! one was already 
cold in death. The eldest felt his icy 
cheek with his hand, and proposed to 
the other to place him between them, 
one under and the other over him. 
They did so, and they spoke tenderly to 
him as they had heard their mother 
speak. “ A little while,” whispered one, 
“ we will be rested, and then will walk 
on.” Even while he spoke, that fatal 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


27 


drowsiness, which precedes death, and 
mitigates its pain, was creeping over 
him. In one hour these children of the 
sea were bound in icy slumber. 

Night had nearly waned. The 
storm was rapidly abating. The moon 
peered through the drifting clouds, and 
rested on the lonely cabin in which 
lay the young sleepers. Suddenly 
voices broke the solemn hush around. 
Torches flickered in the lulling wind, 
and, foremost of a group of men, a 
stalwart form bent to raise the body of 
a woman, from which the snow had 
drifted. With a murmur of sorrow, 
the group pressed forward, and recog- 
nized the anxious mother who had left 
their village a few hours before. 

Just then one of them espied the 
boat lying not far from the cabin. 
They shudderingly approached that 
deserted house, hopeless of finding the 
lost ones there. Beautiful in death, 
they found the young fishermen on 
the frozen floor, the youngest lying 
between his brothers. At one glance 
the seekers read the whole story, and 
brushed aside the tears that fell with 
unwonted rapidity. One more effort 
would have brought the mother to her 
boys, and they might have laid down 
to sleep together. It was not to be. 
They raised the dead, and slowly 
walked homeward. In a few hours 
the wretched husband and parent, 
stood by his family, who had perished 
while he lay impotent in drunken 
sleep. 

The cabin on the cliff has been long 
deserted, but near by a huge black 
stone marks the spot where sleeps the 
mother with her young children by her 
side. 


Theft of an Editor’s Pen. 

S ome one came into our office the 
other day, who was seized with 
such a passion for our favorite 
pen, that he walked off with it, 
and we have never heard either of it 
or of him since. Of the pen we have 
given a very accurate drawing, on the 
next page, as it was when we were 
wont to scribble with it for the enter- 
tainment of our little friends. 

We cannot present a picture of the 
thief, not being familiar with his face. 
We are sorry for that. We should 
dearly love to show him off just as he 
looked, when he was walking out of 
the office door. There is a peculiar 
expression in the face of a person when 
he is discovered in a dishonest or mean 
act, which is not to be mistaken. We 
warrant that man had a hang-dog sort 
of look about him. Well, never mind 
the fellow ; though perhaps his eye 
may fall upon this article, and we 
would like to say a word to him — that 
is, if he can read, and probably he 
can, for it is to be presumed he can 
write, or he would not have wanted a 
pen so much as to steal it. One thing 
we would like to say to him is this: 
we wish he would use the pen care- 
fully. If he does, it will last him a 
great while. It is very well made — - 
Mr. Bagely, of this city, is the manu- 
facturer, by the way — and may be 
nearly as good a year hence as it is 
now; though it is a delicate thing, 
and cannot bear hard usage. So he 
will please to use it with care. Then 
there is another thing we wish he 
would do ; and that is all we will ask 
of him at present. We wish that 


28 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


whenever he uses the pen, he would 
take his Bible — he may borrow one, 
if he has none of his own ,* any body 
will lend him one for this purpose — 
and read the tenth verse of the sixth 
chapter of Paul’s first epistle to the 
Corinthians. It is a very small favor 
we ask of the man, considering the 
favor he has received from us — a favor 
which he can never appreciate, be- 
cause he cannot know how much we 


loved the pen. We think he can do 
no less than to indulge us in this little 
whim ; and if he will, we will say no 
more, and just leave him in the cus- 
tody of his conscience. 

One becomes very much attached to 
even an inanimate thing, especially if 
that thing has helped him out of a good 
many difficulties, and done him very 
essential service. We should not won- 
der if the farmer could become quite 



BAGTjEY’ 3 QOLD PEN, WITH PATENT EXTENSION HOLbER. 


in love with a favorite hoe or axe, 
though we must confess our affections 
never run in that channel. A lady 
becomes attached to a work-box or 
thimble, by a long use of it, and, so 
we hope, boys and girls get to be in 
love with their books after they have 
turned them over a year or two. How 
is that, little folks ? At all events, we 
loved that pen very much. We never 
found one before- — hardly excepting 
the good old-fashioned goose-quill — 
which was every way so accommo- 
dating. It would write stories and 
letters, poetry and prose — every thing, 
so that the printers could read it ; and 
that is saying a good deal for our poor 
manuscript. 

We wonder what that pen is doing 
now. What new enterprise has it 
engaged in? We should very much 
like to know. Is it an editor’s pen 
still ? We almost hope so. No, on 
the whole, we hope no such thing. 
For the honor of the craft, we hope no 
editor stole it. Has it gone into the 


mercantile business ? Well, we will 
answer for it, that pen will make as 
pretty letters on a ledger as any clerk 
need wish to see. Is it a politician’s 
pen, or a lawyer’s ? Perhaps a lawyer 
has it. If so, it will help him along 
amazingly with his deeds, though there 
be deeds of his which we are sure it 
would be ashamed to record. We 
should really like to know what that 
old friend is doing, and whether its 
face is as smiling as it used to be, and 
what kind of a master it has. It may 
be we shall be able to give its history 
one of these days. Who knows ? 
Stranger things have happened. Per- 
haps it will bum the man’s fingers, so 
that he will be glad to Send it back 
again, with a long account of its wan- 
derings. We shall see. 


“When the candle of prosperity 
shines upon us, we may light our 
neighbor who is in the dark, and have 
none the less light ourselves.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


29 


Oriental Jewelry. 

he ladies in Palestine and other 
oriental countries, used, a great 
many years ago, to wear some 
very singular ornaments about 
their persons, and so they do still, we 
believe, in some portions of the eastern 
world. Only think of a lady dressed 
up with a great jewel hanging from the 
nose ! Here is a picture of one in that 
plight. 



A hole has been bored through the 
cartilage, and in this way the jewel is 
fastened to the nose. We wonder if 
the pleasure one receives from the idea 
that she looks very pretty, is great 
enough to balance the pain she must 
endure from wearing the ornament. 
There are two other jewels in the pic- 
ture, also intended for the nose. They 
are very large, you see. We should 
think either of them would be in the 
way sometimes. It seems to us, that 
the nose was never designed for such 


a use as this. But some of our mo- 
dern ladies abuse this innocent organ 
about as much as their ancestors did, 
though in a very different manner. We 
are not sure but fastening jewels to the 
nose — something in the style that the 
farmer rings his pigs — is as harmless * 
and rational as making it a store-room 
for ground tobacco. 


The Toll-Man’s Family. 

N the town of Dessau, in Germany, 
JJ there was a long bridge over the 
M Elbe. The ends of the bridge 
were much lower than the middle. 
The toll-man’s house was placed upon 
the highest part of it, in the centre. In 
the spring of the year, when the ice 
was breaking up, there arose a great 
storm, and the river, with the broken 
pieces of ice, came roaring down so 
violently, that the ends of the bridge 
were soon carried away, and nothing 
was left but the middle arch of the 
bridge, with the toll-house upon it, 
which looked as if it were upon a little 
island in the middle of the river. The 
force of the river was so great that it 
was impossible that this arch should 
stand long, and the poor toll-man feared 
that his house would soon be carried 
away 'by the waves, and his wife and 
children all drowned. There were a 
great many people on the banks, pity- 
ing the poor man’s fate, as he and his 
wife and children screamed to them 
for help ; but the storm was heavy and 
the ice made it dangerous, and they 
were all too cowardly to go out in a 
boat to try to save the poor family from 
drowning. Among them was a rich 



30 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


count, who held up a large purse of 
gold, and offered it to any one who 
would go and save the toll-man and his 
wife and children ; but no one would 
risk his life for money. At last a poor 
man came along in a wagon, and as 
soon as he saw the danger the poor 
people were in, he set off in a little boat 
and never minded the storm. He got 
safely to the toll-house ; but he had to 
go three times before he brought away 


the whole family. Just as he was 
landing the last load, the arch gave 
way, and the house was carried down 
the river. The poor father and mother 
and their children, were too happy to 
speak, when they found they were safe. 

The count then offered the poor man 
who saved them the purse of gold. 
“No,” he said, “my life was worth 
more than money, and I do not wish to 
be paid for doing right.” — Selected . 



Holyrood Palace and Abbey. 


f HESfc buildings, a view of which 
is given in the engraving, are 
situated at the eastern extremity 
of the old town of Edinburgh, in 
Scotland. They are very ancient build- 
ings. The abbey was founded in the 
year 1128, and was used as the royal 
cemetery. It is now mostly in ruins. 
The palace is a large quadrangular 
building of hewn stone, with a court 
within, surrounded by a piazza. It 
contains a gallery one hundred and 
fifty feet long, in which are the por- 


traits of all the Scottish kings. It is 
now used at the election of the sixteen 
peers of Scotland, to represent their or- 
der in the British parliament. In the 
northwest tower may still be seen the 
bed-chamber of the unfortunate Mary; 
Queen of Scots. There are still ex- 
hibited the remains of her magnificent 
bed. There, too, is the cabinet adjoin- 
ing the royal bed-chamber, from which, 
tradition says, the miserable Rizzio was 
dragged, and murdered in the presence 
of the queen. 














































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MY MALTESE KITTEN. 


l 




















THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


33 


My Maltese Kitten. 

BY THE MAN WITH THE MAGNET. 


aroline Rose was as happy 

lj|j9H|f| a as ever y ou saw i n 

your life — “as happy as 
the days are long” — so her school- 
V master us'ed to say. There were 
’ a great many good points in Caro- 
line’s character besides this, that she was 
so generally cheerful — for I consider that 
a good point in any one’s character. She 
was kind to her companions, obedient, 
respectful, and affectionate to her pa- 
rents ; and she seldom got into a fit of 
anger, or made a fool of herself by being 
sulky. 

Shall I tell you what there was in her 
character which nobody could like, and 
which sometimes made her appear exceed- 
ingly unlovely ? I will do so, so as to 
put you on your guard in that particular 
point. That trait in her character was 
selfishness . If she ever got anything 
that she liked, she used to act as if she 
were not willing that any one else should 
enjoy it with her. Indeed, she appeared 
to be displeased, if one of her playmates, 
as was sometimes the case, did take pleas- 
ure in her pretty things. 

Her father once brought her home a 
fine set of tea-things, when she was quite 
young. Now should you not suppose 
that she would like to have all the girls 
in the neighborhood come and take tea 
with her, and use her pretty new cups 
and saucers, and spoons and plates ? 
Well, so should I. But she showed a 


great deal of selfishness in this matter. 
She was glad to have the girls come and 
look at the tea-things, and hear them say 
that they were very pretty. But that was 
as far as her generosity went. She did not 
ask the girls to sit down and drink tea 
with her. Indeed, she did not want her 
playmates to handle the cups and sau- 
cers. “I’m so afraid you will break 
them,” said she. What a foolish and un- 
reasonable girl ! 

It got to be a sort of a proverb in the 
little village where Caroline resided, when 
any one was not very generous, “ She’s 
almost as selfish as Carrie Rose.” I don’t 
know whether she knew how she was re- 
garded among boys and girls of her own 
age; and I don’t know how much she 
cared for their good-will, if she did hear 
what they thought of her. But this I 
know, that I could not bear to have such 
a character. I would rather give away 
half of all I am worth than to give any 
reason to people to think I was mean and 
selfish. 

Caroline had a kitten given her, by her 
uncle, when she had grown up to be quite 
a large girl. It was a beautiful creature. 
I think they called it a Maltese kitten. 
Nothing of the kind had been seen in the 
place where Caroline lived, before Tom- 
my, as she called her new pet, was brought 
there. Well, of course she told all the 
little folks what a fine present her uncle 
had made to her, and they were invited 
to come over and see the “dear little 
creature.” She talked about her kitten 
as if it were one of the wonders of the 
world. When she met her young friends, 


34 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


she talked of nothing hardly hut “my 
pretty Maltese kitten.” 

That is the way with selfish folks. 
They think and talk a great deal of what 
concerns them, and you seldom hear 
them praise anything that belongs to 
their neighbors. I shall never forget 
how, when I was a little school-boy,* 
Mother Budd, a rather selfish old lady, 
used to call us into her kitchen to see the 
nice honey she had been taking^ out of 
her bee-hives. “ Isn’t that fine !” she 
w r ould ask; “eh, isn’t that fine honey, 
boys ?” Of course it was fine, and we 
said so. “ Well, you can go now,” she 
would say, after that. As for letting us 
taste of her fine honey, that she never 
thought of doing. 

Selfishness has the same ugly face, 
look at it where you will. It made 
quite a scar in the features of Caroline’s 
character. 

But about that kitten. Clara Good- 
sell was as full of fun as a hickory nut is 
of meat. She heard of Caroline’s kitten, 
and she, too, was invited to call and see 
it. She did not go, though, and, indeed, 
the girls very generally failed to comply 
with the invitation. They knew well 
enough that, if they went to see the kit- 
ten, they would not be allowed to take 
it, and that all they could do would be 
to stand a little way off, and look at it, 
and remark how beautiful it was. 

One day, when the girls at school were 
required to write compositions, Clara 
thought she would write something which 
would make Carrie ashamed of her sel- 
fishness. The teacher read all the com- 
positions aloud. When he came to Cla- 
ra’s, the girls had as much as they could 
do to keep from laughing, for they knew 
what it was about. The schoolmaster 


had to bite his lips to keep from smiling 
a little, too. Clara did not call any 
names. But she wrote such a composi- 
tion about “ My Maltese Kitten ,” that 
anybody could see it was meant for 
Caroline. The selfish girl saw it, as well 
as the rest, and before school was out, she 
burst into tears, she felt so badly. But 
the composition did her good. She im- 
proved wonderfully after that. . 


Don’t Joke with Elephants, 

p"k t the statutes at Barnsley, on 
Jt V Saturday last, a country bumpkin 
J Q) went to look at Hilton’s collec- 
tion of wild beasts. On entering 
the place he began to amuse himself by 
giving the elephant gingerbread and fruit ; 
but, soon growing tired of that, he thought 
he would try what a joke would do, and ac- 
cordingly he pricked the elephant’s trunk 
with a penknife. No sooner w r as this 
done, than out of his den rushed the ani- 
mal among the visitors, forcing the chain 
and the large post to which he was fast- 
ened along with him. The elephant 
caught the delinquent by the collar, and 
threw him with great force on the ground. 
Up he got again quickly, and made his 
escape outside, but the elephant struck 
the temporary ceiling which the man had 
just passed with such force as to Shiver it 
to pieces. The scene at the moment was 
truly ludicrous; men, women, and chil- 
dren were laid in all directions. Fortu- 
nately, however, no one was hurt, except 
the elephant pricker, who complained 
of his collar-bone . — Leeds {Eng.) In- 
telligencer. 































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THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


37 


The Gods of the Hindoos. 

f iiE Hindoos are very supersti- 
tious. But there is less non- 
sense in their mythology, per- 
haps, silly as it is, than there 
is in some other religious systems in 
the world. According to the sacred 
books of the Hindoos, there is one 
deity who, in some sense, is supreme. 
His name is Brahma. There are 
two other deities who make a con- 
siderable figure in their system of re- 
ligion : the name of one is Vishnu, of 
the other, Siva. They are droll-look- 
ing creatures, if their portraits are cor- 
rectly given. On the opposite page is 
a picture of each of them. Some 
people, who seem to be pretty well 
acquainted with the Hindoo religion, 
inform us that they do not, in reality, 
recognize but one deity, whom they 
call Brahm, in the neuter gender ; and 
that they regard Brahma, Vishnu, and 
Siva, as different manifestations of one 
god. It may be, the Hindoos have not 
very clear perceptions of what they 
believe themselves. 

Vishnu preserves and supports the 
whole order of nature. When they 
speak of the divine power employed in 
creating, they use the word Brahma ; 
and when they view the deity as the 
destroyer, or as one that changes the 
order of things, they give him the 
name of Siva ; and, indeed, from what 
we can learn, a thousand other names 
besides — else they have as many gods. 

They also worship a flower, called 
the lotus, said to be very beautiful. 
Temples are decked with the lotus, and 
so are the statues of the deities. ♦ Some . 
of the pagodas, or temples for the gods, 


are exceedingly splendid and costly. 
To these pagodas the people resort, in 
great masses, to offer sacrifices and do 
penance. Good works, with them, con- 
sist in making presents of cattle and 
other things, on festival days. 

The Jaga is a burnt-offering, conse- 
crated to the sun and the nine planets, 
in order to obtain the holy fire, with 
which the funeral piles of deceased 
Brahmins, or priests, may be kindled, 
in order to exempt them from any far- 
ther penance after death, and translate 
them from the ashes to the courts of 
Brahma. It requires great prepara- 
tions. A hundred learned Brahmins 
select a place, which must be conse- 
crated by prayer and holy water. A 
large tent is then erected in the middle, 
and around it several smaller ones. In 
the large one pieces of wood are rubbed 
together until they take fire. After 
which, a rain is brought into the circle, 
and various magic words whispered in 
his ear. Then he is strangled, and 
burned, excepting the liver, which is 
roasted and eaten by the Brahmins. 
The high priest takes the sacred fire 
home with him. 

What a piece of nonsense ! Yet 
this is not the worst feature in their 
religion. Multitudes of human victims 
are sacrificed, or sacrifice themselves, 
to please their imaginary deities. 


Some one — we know not who — has 
remarked, that “ every man has in his 
life follies enough; in his own mind 
troubles enough ; in the performance of 
his duties deficiencies enough ; in his 
own fortunes evils enough, without 
minding other people’s business.” 


38 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


Look Up! 

WRITTEN FOR THE CABINET.— POETRY BY JULIAN CRAMER— MUSIC BY W. B. BRADBURY. 


-b- 7> 1 — M — y 


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rS=i3 ; s=-S=EsJ=S=f=f=E 


When the sun of life is bright - est, And 




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the heart is 

P~P 


ErEErEEEE 

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nqzz-^zijiizrzn-n— q=sxq= =" *=j^: 

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fresh and free, 

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Then look up with meek thanks - giv - ing 


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2. When the sea of sorrow riseth, 

And its surges o’er thee roll, 

Still look up — for He who rules them 
Will not drown the struggling soul. 

3. If Affliction grasps thee rudely, 

And presents the rack and cup, 


Drink the draught, and brave the torture — 
Even in despair, look up ! 

4. Still look up ! For One there liveth 
With the will and power to save— 

One who knows each human sorrow 
From the cradle to the grave. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


39 


The Little Orphan Children. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 


ovv would it please 
you, young friends, 
if I should tell you 
a story this cold 
winter evening ? I 
have one that I think 
will be worth hearing. It is 
about two orphan children. 
James and Emily had once a 
very kind father and. mother, 
though their father died when they 
were quite young. I used to know the 
children very well. How often have 
I seen them, hand in hand, going to 
school. Their faces were always lighted 
up with a smile, and they had the name 
of being very affectionate to each other, 
and very kind to their playmates. I 
have seen them in the Sabbath school, 
too, where all good boys and girls love 
to go, and though I never made inquiries 
about them of their teacher, I am pretty 
sure they learned their lessons well, 
and listened attentively to all that was 
said to them. 

The mother of these children was a 
very good lady. She used to talk to 
them a great deal about God and about 
heaven; and many a time, she led 
James and Emily into her room, and 
knelt down with them in prayer. Oh ! 
how much those children loved their 
mother. They thought they could not 
live without her; and when once she 
reminded them that she might die, little 
James threw his arms around her neck, 
Vol. II. 2 


and cried, and said he hoped if his dear 
mother died, that he and sister Emily 
might die too, and be buried where she 
was. The wish that James had was 
perhaps not right; but it was a very 
natural one, and when I was a child, I 
have prayed that God would let me die 
with my mother. 



THE ORPHANS AT PRAYER. 


It was in the autumn, after the frosts 
had begun to tinge the forest trees with 
so many beautiful colors, that James 
and Emily were called' one night to their 
mother’s bed-side, to see her die. She 
gave them a great deal of good advice, 
and the last words she uttered were 
cheerful and happy. Oh ! what a privi- 
lege it is to see the Christian die. She 
prayed that God would be kind to her 
dear children, and lead them to heaven ; 
and then she went to her rest. Long and 
bitterly did these orphans weep when 
they saw that their mother was dead; 



40 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


but they did not forget the many good 
counsels she had given them while she 
was living. They remembered where 
she had directed them to go for consola- 
tion. There they went with their eyes 
full of tears. 

They went to their room, and knelt 
down together, and asked the Lord to 
take care of them, to make them good 
children, to keep them from sin, and to 
prepare them to go where their mother 
had gone. 

Does not the spirit of such a mother 
hover over those she cherished so fond- 
ly even after the body is cold and life- 
less? Was it not her voice that whis- 
pered peace and comfort to them ? Did 
she not point them to the only true 
source of comfort ? Was she not their 
guardian angel still ? 

“ I begin now,” said little Emily, 
who was more calm than her brother, 
though several years younger than he, 
“I begin now to see what a precious 
book the Bible is. Do you not remem- 
ber, dear brother, where it says, ‘ When 
my father and my mother forsake me, 
then the Lord will take me up V That 
is for you and me, I am sure it is. 
Don’t cry any more James, dear James;” 
and she kissed the tears away from her 
brother’s face, and read to him some of 
the sweet Psalms which their mother 
loved. How often does the weaker be- 
come the stronger in the hour of sorrow. 
How often does the mighty oak, even, 
then need the influence of the ivy that 
at other times clings to its trunk for 
support. The race is not always to the 
swift, nor the battle to the strong. 

But did the Lord take care of those 
children ? What became of them ? 
They remembered the lessons they had 


learned of their mother, and of their 
Sabbath school teachers. They did not 
forget that God had said, “ Those that 
seek me early shall find me;” and they 
had a witness within their own breasts 
that these words were true. 

The other day I took up a news- 
paper, and as I was looking it over, I 
saw that Emily was dead. That notice 
in the paper made me think of this 
stoiy. She was eighteen years old, I 
believe. Her end was peaceful and 
happy. She had several years before 
made a public profession of her faith in 
Christ ; and she died with a bright hope 
of eternal life. James is a minister of 
the gospel. I have not seen him for 
several years ; but I learn that he is a 
good man, and trying to do good to 
others. 


The Vine. 

BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. 

The Vine hath beauty rare ; 

We train its tender shoot, 

We twine it round the trellis fair, 

And praise its fragrant fruit ; 

Y et there’s a, secret vein 
Of poison near its bower; 

And he will find it to his pain, 

Who tampers with its power. 

So, from life’s earliest morn, 

While we, like shadows, pass, 
Beneath the rose-cup lurks the thorn,— 
The adder in the grass. — 

Be ours the love of heaven, 

Clear mind, and cloudless view, 

To share the Eden it hath given, 

And shun the serpent too. 

Habti-obd, Ct. ( Jan 1817. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


41 



The Land Crab. 


IpypkHOSE of our readers who have lived 
KIN near the sea-shore, must have 
M noticed an abundance of crabs in 
*** the water. Sometimes they are 
quite annoying to people when they are 
bathing. They are curious looking 
creatures. It would puzzle any body, 
not acquainted with their history and 
habits, to tell where to rank them in the 
scale of animal life. 

There is one kind of crab which de- 
serves more notice than those which are 
so common in this latitude. One species 
lives on the land, as well as in the sea. 
It is called the Land Violet Crab. 
Large numbers of these may be found 
about the Bahama Islands. We have 
had a picture of one of these odd look- 
ing fellows taken, with a view of a 
whole host of them in the back ground, 
on purpose for the readers of the Cabi- 
net. This species is remarkable for 
the long journeys they take by land. A 
great part of the year they live in the 
mountains, in a very orderly manner, it 
is said ; but once in twelve months in a 
vast army, composed of several millions, 
sometimes, they march down to the sea- 


side. • This is usually in April or May. 
The whole country is then covered with 
them. Just think what a figure so 
many of these animals must cut, parad- 
ing through the country. It makes us 
laugh only to think of it. However, 
they do not travel in the day much. 
They like the night best. They are 
usually arranged in three battalions, of 
fifty paces broad, and three miles deep. 
Though they appear to be very sociable, 
and love one another pretty well, yet, if 
any one of them is wounded, so as to be 
unable to proceed, his companions fall 
on him, and devour him on the spot. 

That is undoubtedly a very bad trait 
in their character ; but it is not much 
worse than we see exhibited among 
mankind sometimes. When certain 
persons see another falling, they will 
give him a push to help him along; 
and when he is fallen, as a good friend 
of ours said the other day, “ They plant 
their feet on the victim’s neck, and keep 
them there.” 

These singular creatures march with 
the greatest regularity. Their instinct 
teaches them in what direction to find 


42 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


the sea, and they go as straight toward 
it, unless there is some insurmountable 
obstacle in the way, as a surveyor 
would go with his chain and compass. 
Sometimes, when a house has been 
in the way, they have even tried to 
go over it, rather than to avoid it by 
turning aside a little from their di- 
rect course. 

It takes a month or two for them to 
get from the mountains to the sea ; afnd 
they have been known to occupy three 
months in this journey. They go to 
the sea-shore to deposit their eggs. 
After they have remained a short time, 
they return to the mountains in the 
same orderly manner in which they 
came, in company with their young. 

On their way home, the old crabs 
renew their shells. While they are des- 
titute of a covering, they retreat into 
holes ; but as their flesh is at this time 
very delicious, thousands are taken for 
food. 


The Orphan’s Lament.* 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

J haye no mother — and my father — 
I know not that my father lives. 
I see children here to-day with 
their parents. I hope I do not envy 
such children ; but I cannot help think- 
ing how much happier they must be 
than we are. Oh ! it is a blessed thing 
to have a kind father and mother. My 


* Written for the Sabbath School connected 
with the Institution at Long Island Farms, 
under the direction of the corporation of the 
city of New York, and spoken by o»e of the 
pupils at an annual exhibition, 


father — but no — I cannot speak of my 
father. May God forgive the men who 
have not been kind' to him. I too once 
had a mother. She was a good and 
tender mother. I remember how she 
used to take me in her arms. Some- 
times when I cried for bread, she had 
none to give me, and then she kissed 
away my tears and smiled, and said 
God would send something for us to 
eat. Oh ! I cannot tell how much I 
loved that mother. I loved to hear her 
pray for father and all of us. She very 
often asked that God who sent the 
ravens to feed Elijah, would send food 
for her dear babes ; and she sobbed 
sometimes, so she could not speak 
aloud. I could not bear to see her 
weep. But she told me not to feel sad 
for her, because her weeping would be 
over by and by. And I think there is 
no weeping where she is now. Dear 
mother! are not all tears wiped away 
in heaven ? She is an angel now. 1 
shall see her face no more in this 
world. She will tell me no more about 
God and heaven. I shall not hear her 
sweet voice again. Those hands that 
were once ready to help me, are now 
crumbling to dust in the cold ground. 
Those eyes that looked upon me so 
kindly, are closed till the judgment 
day. 

Dear, dear mother ! they placed her 
in the silent grave, and two of her 
babes have gone too ; and I know not 
the spot where they sleep. O it is a 
blessed thing to have a tender mother 
to love. How thankful those children 
should be who have such a blessing, 
and how careful they ought to be to 
please their parents and make th’em 
happy. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


43 


The Gay Dreams of Youth. 

ft'jT is said that “men are but chil- 
li dren fully grown ;” and if I were 
M to be asked in what childish 
*** amusements they mostly indulge, 
I would say, in the game of bubble- 
blowing. We begin to blow our bub- 
bles early in childhood, and we keep 
it up, with little intermission, to old age. 

With what delight does the young 
urchin gaze on the glittering globe of 
soap and water that he has fairly 
launched into the air', while standing 
on a wall ! There it goes ! mounting 
up with the breeze that blows, and 
again descending low. One moment 
as high as the house, and at another 
almost touching the ground. Onward l 
onward it holds its course, escaping 
every danger, till, at last, it bursts 
as it strikes against the edge of a tomb- 
stone in an adjoining churchyard. 

The bubbles of our after years, too, 
bear a strong family likeness to those 
of our childhood. Some burst as soon 
as blown. Some vanish suddenly in 
the air ; and if any of them mount 
over the churchyard wall, they are 
sure to disappear amid the tombs. 

“ Wishing” is a losing game to all 
who play at it ; and yet who is there 
that altogether refrains ? I never 
hsard but of one man who could say, 
*' I have learned, in whatever state 
I am, therewith to be content.” Phil, 
iv. 14. 

Let us take a stripling from among 
the many who are, at this moment, 
banqueting on the airy food of future 
greatness; who are, in other words, 
engaged in bubble-blowing, and enter 
for a moment into his golden dreams. 


It is true, he may be poor; but the 
Rothschilds were not always rich, 
though at last they amassed millions. 
He has heard of Whittington, a poor 
friendless lad, quitting London with his 
bundle in his hand, and turning back 
again to wealth and renown, beckoned 
by the bells ringing out musically, as 
he fancied, the words — 

“ Turn again, Whittington, 

Thrice Lord Mayor of London.” 

Why, it is very possible that, some 
day, he may be as great a man as 
Whittington, who had only a cat with 
which to make his fortune. Not that 
he has, at present, any very bright pros- 
pects before him in real life ; but that 
only renders the more bright the vision 
of his fancy. 

Well, then, it is a settled thing with 
him that he will be a merchant, and sail 
the seas in a ship of his own, carrying 
out beads to barter with Africans for 
ivory and ostrich feathers ; and bales of 
cloth to exchange for gold, There is 
no preventing his future prosperity ; he 
will soon become rich, in his own ima- 
gination, and ride in a coach and six ! 

And now the bubble is at its height ! 
Poor fellow ! what a pity that he cannot 
keep it in the air ! Alas ! down it must 
come, breaking against the very ground. 
The poor lad works at a trade, marries 
early, has a large family; his health 
fails him, his friends forsake him ; want 
springs upon him like an armed man, 
he becomes sick and .infirm, and he re- 
ceives pay from the parish. 

Or, suppose his youthful’ dream to b^ 
of another kind; his bubble, though 
equally frail with that I have already 
blown for him, may take a different di- 


44 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


rection. He is studious and fond of 
books, and it may be that he is poetical. 
Say that Chevy Chase, or the ballad of 
the Children in the Wood, first lures 
him to the flowery pathways of poesy. 
He reads, grows abstracted and imagi- 
native, and “ mutters his wayward fan- 
cies” as he goes. Goldsmith wins him, 
Cowper and Montgomery delight him, 
Gray fires him, and Byron works him 
up almost to frenzy, and it is well if not 
to moral evil. Like a ship with no bal- 
last and much sail, he pursues his 
course. He yearns for an earthly im- 
mortality. There have been Shake- 
speares, and Miltons, and Ossians and 
Homers ! Why may there not be again ? 
What a delightful thing to publish a 
volume of unrivalled poetry ; to be laud- 
ed by reviewers, to be sought by book- 
sellers, to be courted by the great, and 
to be highly estimated by the world ! 

Thus he goes on wasting his life in 
unprofitable dreams ; but see ! the bub- 
ble bursts at last. He has feasted his 
mind, and famished his body : unable to 
conform to the common-place usages of 
life, or to perform its duties, he is 
crushed by trouble. With an intellect 
superior to those around him, he is the 
proverb of the wise, and the butt of the 
foolish, and, perhaps, ends his days in 
a lunatic asylum. There may be many, 
whose sober habits and reflections may 
think this picture overdrawn ; I have 
some reason to think the contrary. 

Or, perhaps, he has read books of 
travels and wondrous adventures by 
sea and land, and is resolved to travel ; 
why should not he, as well as others, 
achieve something wonderful ? — ascend 
Mont Blanc, go down the crater of 
Vesuvius, and measure the Pyramids! 


How delightful, after wandering in 
strange lands like Mungo Park, en- 
countering lions in the desert like 
Campbell, and delving into the mummy 
pits of Egypt like Belzoni, to return 
home with the real Indian tomahawks, 
bows and arrows, and scalping-knives; 
with snakes from Africa, fishing tackle 
from the South Seas, birds of Paradise 
and humming birds from the East ; and 
monkeys and macaws from the West ! 

This is a golden dream in which his 
fancy indulges in his waking hours. 
His native land is too contracted for 
his ardent spirit; he longs for perils 
and toil, he thirsts for strange adven- 
tures, and after all, perhaps, is put 
apprentice to a tailor or a weaver, 
passing his days on a shop-board of six 
feet by three, or growing old in fling- 
ing the shuttle and plying the loom 
in the back garret of some miserable 
dwelling. What a glittering bubble 
has here burst ! What a gay dream has 
here passed away ! And yet who shall 
venture to afiirm that a thousand such 
occurrences as these have not taken 
place in common life 1 

But his dream may have been yet of 
a different kind. The stripling may 
have heard the stormy music of the 
rattling drum, and gazed upon the gay 
attire of the recruiting sergeant. He 
may have “heard of battle,” and been 
fired with the love of victory and fame. 

Strange it is, that when the would-be 
warrior sees before him the prancing 
war-horse, and the bannered host, that 
he cannot see the agonies of the dying, 
and the mangled heaps of the slain! 
Strange, that when he hears, in imagi- 
nation, the neigh of the charger, the 
clangor of the brazen-throated trumpet, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


45 


and the roar of cannon, that he cannot 
also hear the agonizing, groans of the 
wounded soldiers, nor the heart-rending 
wails of the widow and the fatherless ! 
Yet so it is ! selfishness, and sin, and 
carnage, are crowned with glory. 

But the stripling will blow his bubble. 
He ponders the page' that sets forth the 
victories of Cressy and of Agincourt, of 
Blenheim and of Waterloo. He gazes 
on the marble monuments of renowned 
heroes, and becomes a soldier ! nay, 
more — he is famed for courage, rises 
in rank, and his fondest wishes are 
realized. 

But are these gay dreams less vain 
because they have been partly fulfilled ? 
The stripling has become a hero, with a 
scar on his forehead and a pair of epau- 
lets on his shoulders. But there is 
something yet that remains to be told : 
besides these things, he has a galling 
wound that the surgeons have pro- 
nounced incurable, and a ball in his 
body that annoys him, yet cannot be 
dislodged ! And when alone in the mid- 
night hour, he heaves a sigh, somewhat 
in doubt whether he should not have led 
a more useful life in pursuing peace, 
than in following war, in being a pre- 
server, rather than a destroyer, of his 
species. - 

Have I said enough ? Old Hum- 
phrey has been a blower of bubbles, a 
dreamer of dreams, through the better 
part of his days ; let him then run his 
length on the gay dreams of youth. 

But he may be musical ; and his fan- 
ciful reveries on humanity may be 
musical too. The half-penny whistle, 
the penny trumpet, and the six-penny 
drum of childhood, have given way to 
the fife, the flute, the flageolet, and the 


violin. He studies the gamut, plays 
solos when alone, duets when with a 
friend, and talks about Wragge, and 
Nicholson,* and Cramer. On he goes, 
afflicting the neighborhood with the dis- 
sonance of his unmastered instruments, 
till he really becomes a decent per- 
former. He now plays a Nicholson 
flute, and a Cremona violin, besides 
which, he has made some progress on 
the violincello, and can blow a clear 
and sonorous blast or two on the keyed 
bugle. 

But is he satisfied ? No ; there is no 
point of satisfaction in music more than 
in other things. Could he pour forth 
the full diapason of the pealing organ ; 
were the harmonious crash of the whole 
orchestra under his control, he would 
not, he could not, rest satisfied ; he 
must blow his bubble : he would com- 
pose like Handel, play like Purkis, and 
outrival the wondrous -performance of 
Paganini. 

This is the beginning, or rather the 
noonday, of his dreamy delight. But 
what is its end ? He joins some musical 
society, is led into company, neglects 
his business, spends more than he gets, 
sinks into poverty, and in his old age is 
found playing a fiddle to the drunkards 
in a pot-house, for what pence he can 
obtain, or spending his breath on a 
cracked clarionet, a mendicant perform- 
ing in the public streets. 

Or, suppose him to have read the ad- 
ventures of Robinson Crusoe, and the 
voyages of Captain Cook, and to have 
fallen in love with the sea. He has 
met a jack tar in his holiday clothes, 
and gazed with admiration on his long- 
quartered shoes, blue jacket, and snow- 
white trousers. He has seen him pull 


40 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


out of his pocket, carelessly, a handful 
of copper, silver, gold, and pig-tail to- 
bacco. “ Oh, it is a fine thing to be a 
sailor !” thinks he, “to wear clean 
clothes, to play the fiddle, to dance on 
the deck, and to have plenty of grog and 
prize money ! Nothing in the world 
like being a sailor !” 

And now comes thronging in his mid- 
night dream, a ship’s crew of light- 
hearted seamen, a jovial band of jack 
tars. He hears their songs, he sees 
them in their well-rigged ship, plough- 
ing through the foaming waves, with 
dolphins, and porpoises, and flying fish 
around them, and a clear blue sky 
above their heads. 

He goes on blowing his bubbles, till 
he has had enough of stormy-petrels, 
glittering icebergs, sharks, and shore- 
crabs, whales and walrusses ; sea- weed, 
sword-fish, and coral rocks; and then 
wrecks himself on an uninhabited island, 
that he may give on his return home a 
wonderful account of his dangers and 
his toils. 

If he were the king of mighty Baby- 
lon departed, surrounded with his wise 
men, Chaldeans, soothsayers, and astro- 
logers, they would give him, no doubt, 
a goodly interpretation of his dreams ; 
but being only a poor friendless lad, he 
cannot hope for that advantage. No 
matter ! when twenty summers and win- 
ters have rolled over him, he finds him- 
self as far as ever from the ocean, re- 
tailing snuff and tobacco in a country 
village. 

Such are the gay dreams of youth, 
and most of us have indulged in one or 
other of them. I know one who has in- 
dulged in them all ; ay, more than all ! 
and what was the end of his sunny 


visions ? What has become of the 
gleams of glory that dazzled his youth- 
ful fancy in by-gone days ? Let the 
tear that has fallen on the paper, on 
which I note down these observations, 
be his reply. The bubbles of his child- 
hood are burst ; the fond dreams of his 
youth and manhood are passed away ; 
he has seen the hollowness of them all, 
and has been made willing to exchange 
the empty dreams of time for the reali- 
ties of eternity. 

If he knows any thing of his own 
heart, there is nothing in the honors, the 
riches, and the wisdom of this world, 
that for one moment he would put in 
comparison with the well-grounded hope 
of everlasting life. Put together all the 
renown that mankind has to bestow ; pile 
up the crowns and sceptres of the earth ; 
heap high its gold, its costly gems, and 
glittering diadems, and they will be as 
dust in the balance if weighed against 
the hope of eternal life through Christ 
Jesus our Lord . — Old Humphrey's Pithy 
Papers. 


J ames I. of England, went out of 
his way to hear a noted preacher. 
The clergyman, seeing *the king 
enter, left his text, to declaim 
against swearing, for which the king 
was notorious. When done, James 
thanked him for his sermon, but asked 
him what connection swearing had with 
his text. 

He answered, “Since your majesty 
came out of your way to meet me, 
I could not, in complaisance, do less 
than go out of mine to meet you.” — 
Selected . 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


47 


Causes of Tooth-ache. 

S e have received from Dr. John 
Burdell, an eminent and well- 
known dentist in this city, an 
article in relation to the diseases 
of the teeth, which, as it seems to us, is 
very sensible and well-timed. At any 
rate, every body is interested in this 
matter, and the least that every body 
can do, is to give the doctor a hearing. 
His great experience in dentistry en- 
titles his remarks to universal confidence. 
The following is the substance of the 
article to which we allude. 

Tooth-ache, properly so called, arises 
from a swollen condition of the nerve 
which occupies the centre of the tooth, 
and is caused by exposure to an un- 
natural element. When the decay 
reaches the nerve, it is exposed, and 
becomes inflamed and swollen ; and the 
tooth being a dense hard substance, and 
not pliant or elastic, like those parts in 
our bodies which surround other nerves, 
does not expand, and the nerve, although 
much enlarged by the inflammation, is 
still confined in its natural cavity, 
causing that violent beating or throbbing 
sensation, often so great as to deprive 
those thus afflicted of all rest, and even 
the proper exercise of their intellectual 
faculties. 

As the nerves of the teeth communi- 
cate with the brain, they transmit the 
inflammation to that delicate organ, 
thus affecting more or less the reason. 
If you have ever had a tight ring on a 
swollen finger, you will readily under- 
stand this subject. The ring will not 
accommodate itself to the size of the 
finger, which necessarily becomes more 
and more inflamed while the ring re- 


mains, but as soon as it is removed, or 
the swelling reduced, the pain and 
irritability subside ; and it is so with 
the tooth. Should the tooth be split, 
the nerve would then be free from 
external pressure, and the pain would 
immediately cease. 

There is another cause of pain from 
the teeth, which proceeds from an in- 
flammation of the vascular membrane 
which surrounds the roots of the teeth. 
Vascular is derived from the Latin 
word vasculum, a vessel. It means full 
of vessels, or appertaining to vessels. 
The sockets which contain the roots of 
the teeth are lined with little blood- 
vessels, that supply the teeth with vi- 
tality. These little vessels sometimes 
become affected by being over stimu- 
lated by excessive eating and drinking, 
thus filling them to such a degree as to 
cause inflammation and swelling of the 
membrane, which, pressing between 
the socket and the tooth, throws it up, 
and produces the feeling, when closing 
the jaws, that the tooth is much longer 
than formerly. 

Gum- boils, and ulcers at the roots of 
teeth, are only an extension of this dis- 
eased state of the membrane. Actual 
experience proves beyond a doubt that 
these diseases are the results of excess, 
and the very word boil seems to refer 
to fever or heat produced by excess. 

And now, as I have described the 
cause of this pain, I shall go a little 
farther, and define the word pain. It 
means penalty ; and as a penalty can- 
not be righteously inflicted without a 
violation of law, your own reason must 
decide we have some responsibility in 
these matters. We must all bear the 
penalty attached to transgression, 



LEOPOLD DE MEYER PERFORMING BEFORE THE TURKISH SULTAN. 





THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


49 


Biography of Leopold de Meyer. 

ur readers will like to hear 
something about the history of 
this extraordinary man ; and we 
here give them a chapter or two 
of his biography, with another engrav- 
ing^howing how he looked while play- 
ing for the Turkish sultan, and how his 
sublime highness himself looked, with 
his long pipe in his hand. 

Here you have the lion pianist, De 
Meyer, playing as furiously before his 
sublime highness the sultan of all the 
Turkies — we beg pardon of that mon- 
arch, and hope he will not think we 
mean to distinguish him as the leader 
of that quite respectable, though not 
very sublime tribe, to which we are so 
much indebted on Thanksgiving days 
and at Christmas — here is De Meyer 
playing just as indifferently before the 
Turkish sultan as he would in the 
Broadway Tabernacle. Well, we are 
not very much astonished at it, after 
all ; for we believe that same branch of 
imperial greatness once expressed him- 
self as highly delighted with the intro- 
ductory performance of an orchestra, 
when it turned out that they were 
tuning their instruments. It was either 
that branch, or some other that grows 
on the same tree. But, however, let 
that pass. 

Leopold de Meyer was born at 
Vienna, in 1816. While yet a child 
he exhibited quite a fondness for the 
piano ; and before he was sixteen, he 
became a celebrated performer. By 
and by, his fame reached the ears of 
the emperor. He was sent for, and 
from this period the commencement of 
the artist’s popularity may be dated. 


He applied himself very closely to 
study, and practi$fed a great deal. 
Doubtless there are not a few readers 
of the Cabinet who know what it is to 
practice a good while on a piano lesson. 
We could think of some two or three at 
least whom we have heard tell how 
much they disliked to practice. They 
had no particular objection to playing 
the tunes they had learned, but as for 
that monotonous business of practicing 
two or three hours on a lesson, with not 
a particle of music in it, they had no 
patience with it. But let us tell you, 
young friends, the only way in which 
this great pianist became so distin- 
guished, was by long and patient prac- 
tice. It is the only way in which you 
can ever succeed. So do not get impa- 
tient over your lessons in music, or any 
thing else. 

Before Leopold was nineteen he deter- 
mined to travel. He did so, and won a 
great deal of popularity wherever he 
went. He had not been long abroad, 
before the emperor of Russia sent for 
him, and engaged him for a concert at 
the palace. At this time he was ap- 
pointed pianist to the Russian court. 
In Russia he resided for some eight 
years. It was during this period that 
he visited Constantinople, and perform- 
ed, by invitation, before the Turkish 
sultan. His highness does not appear 
in the picture as if he was thrown into 
any very great transport by the music ; 
but looks 'are often deceptive, and it 
may be that enthusiasm, in minds so 
sublime as the sultan’s, shows itself in 
a way quite unlike its symptoms in a 
common mind — who knows ? At any 
rate, the sultan very graciously gave 
the artist a valuable gold snuff-box, 



50 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


which was a compliment as flattering, 
probably, as he knew how to pay. 

Afterwards, De Meyer visitecf France 
and England, and performed with great 
applause before the royal families in 
Paris and London. He has been in 
this country about a year, and soon 
returns to Europe. 

May his course in life be marked 
with the blessings of God’s kind provi- 
dence wherever he goes, and may he 
learn the rudiments of heaven’s music 
in this world — the song of Moses and 
of the Lamb. 


Augustine’s Visit to England. 

? he story of Augustine going from 
Rome to England, to preach to 
the English people, is so interest- 
ing, that we are sure all our 
readers will love to be made acquainted 
with it. We must try and tell the 
story, if we can recollect it. 

You probably know that the Chris- 
tian religion was introduced into the 
island of Great Britain at a very early 
day ; though it may be you will find it 
difficult to determine precisely how 
early it was. But as early as the fifth 
century, religion had very much de- 
clined. In the sixth century, it appears, 
that while there was some sort of Chris- 
tianity on the island, a great part of the 
people were barbarians and^ idolaters. 
The Saxons, our ancestors, by the way, 
were little better than savages. They 
had formed at this time seven kingdoms, 
called heptarchy ; and history informs 
us that they treated the Britons with a 
great deal of cruelty. 

The Saxons had been about one 


hundred years in Britain, when a num 
ber of monks, with Augustine at their 
head, were sent from Rome to this 
island for the purpose of converting the 
inhabitants to Christianity. This was 
about 597. Gregory I. was at that 
time bishop of Rome. It was before 
the Roman bishops had taken the name 
of Pope. 

Gregory, some time before he was 
consecrated bishop, saw some very 
pretty children one day in the streets 
of Rome. He perceived that they 
were foreigners, and asked where they 
came from. When he learned that 
they were Angles , or Saxons, from the 
island of Britain, and that they were 
Pagans, he said it was a great pity 
that such handsome children should not 
be Christians ; and from that time he 
was very anxious to have the gospel 
of Christ preached in Britain. 

Soon after he became bishop of 
Rome, he sent Augustine, and several 
other monks, on this mission. We do 
not know how much real piety they 
had, but they certainly were very 
zealous, and so was Gregory. They 
went to England, and were very kindly 
received there. 

You may think it strange that tfie 
Saxons, considering their character and 
religious opinions at this time, should 
have been glad to see these Romans, 
who came to bring another religion. 
We will tell ycfu the reason of this. 
Ethelbert was one of the most powerful 
of the Saxon princes. He was king of 
Kent. This man had married Bertha, 
the only daughter of Caribert, king of 
Paris. This lady was a Christian ; and 
when she heard that Augustine and his 
companions had come to the island, she 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


51 


was very glad, and persuaded her 
husband to treat them civilly, and to go 
and hear them preach. 

Ethelbert provided a home for the 
missionaries. He even paid them a 
visit. He was afraid of enchantment, 
or witchcraft, however, and took good 
care to have the meeting in the open 
air, thinking he would be safer than in 
the house where the Romans lived. 
You see that this prince was ignorant 
and superstitious ; indeed the Saxons 
were then all pretty much alike in this 
respect. 



Augustine is represented as being 
tall, thin, pale, and emaciated, with 
white hair, and eyes kind, yet full of 
fire. The dress of the monks was that 
of the pilgrim, with hoods hanging down 
their backs, belt and scrip, and staff in 
their hands. They approached the 
king in a very different way from the 
one we should think most becoming. 

The leader carried the cross, which 
it is said was of silver, and a banner, 
not unlike that borne in the Spanish 


Armada, of which the preceding is an 
engraving. 

It shows a wooden cross, full of knots, 
with a sword on one side, and an olive 
branch on the other, and an inscription 
taken from the Latin version of the 
seventy-third Psalm — the seventy-fourth 
of our version — and the twenty-second 
verse. The meaning of the words is, 
“ Arise, O Lord, and plead thy cause.” 
The procession slowly moved toward 
the throne with a solemn chant. 

Ethelbert listened to what the mis- 
sionaries had to say. He told them 
they talked well enough, for aught he 
knew ; but that he wanted to be better 
acquainted with their religion before he 
embraced it. He did embrace it, how- 
ever, afterward, and was a very zea- 
lous friend of the missionaries. 

Soon after this visit, the king gave 
Augustine and his friends permission to 
preach wherever they chose ; and as- 
signed them, for a permanent residence, 
a house in the royal city of Canterbury. 
Augustine made converts in his way, 
very fast, and by and by, he was con- 
secrated archbishop of all England. 


Curiosity of a Spider’s Web. 

he body of every spider contains 
four little masses pierced with a 
multitude of imperceptible holes, 
each hole permitting the passage 
of a single thread ; all the threads to 
the amount of a thousand to each mass, 
join together when they come out, and 
make the single thread with which the 
spider spins its web ; so that what we> 
call a spider’s thread consists of more 
than four thousand united. — Selected . 



52 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



Thrilling Anecdote of a Tiger. 


f iiE Tiger, a most perfect picture 
of which is here given, has the 
reputation of being among the 
fiercest of all animals. Several 
years ago an Englishman, by the name 
of Munro, was killed by a tiger in the 
East Indies. The particulars of this 
distressing scene are given by an eye- 
witness. 

“We went on shore,” says the writer 
of the narrative, “ to shoot deer, of which 
we saw innumerable tracks, as well as 
of tigers ; notwithstanding which, we 
continued our diversion till near three 
o’clock, when, sitting down by the side 
of a jungle to refresh ourselves, a roar 
like thunder was heard, and an im- 
mense tiger seized on our unfortunate 
friend, and rushed again into the jungle, 
dragging him through the thickest bush- 
es and trees, every thing giving way to 
his monstrous strength ; a tigress ac- 
companied his progress. The united 


agonies of horror, regret, and fear, 
rushed at once upon us. I fired on the 
tiger ; he seemed agitated ; my com- 
panion fired also, and, in a few minutes 
after this, our unfortunate friend came 
up to us bathed in blood. Every medi- 
cal assistance was vain, and he expired 
in the space of twenty-four hours, hav- 
ing received such deep wounds from 
the teeth and claws of the animal, as 
rendered his recovery hopeless. A 
large fire, consisting of ten or twelve 
whole trees, was blazing by us at the 
time this accident took place, and ten 
or more natives were with us. The 
human mind can scarce form any idea 
of the scene of horror. We had hardly 
pushed our boat from that accursed 
shore, when the tigress made her ap- 
pearance, almost raging mad, and re- 
mained on the sand, exhibiting signs of 
the utmost ferocity, all the while we 
continued in sight.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


53 


Verbal Suffixes. 

THE ENGLISH SUFFIX, NESS. 

1 . This suffix is found in upwards of 
thirteen hundred words, and is worthy 
of attention, on account of the extent of 
its use. 

2. The corresponding forms in the 
cognate dialects are, Moeso-Goth. inas - 
sus, Old Germ, nissa, nissi, Old Sax. 
nessi, Anglo-Sax. nes , nis, nys, Germ. 
niss, Dutch nis. It is not found in the 
Scandinavian dialects. 

3. The modern English orthography 
of this suffix is constant and uniform. 
The vowel is always e. But in the 
more ancient dialects, the vowel before 
ss vacillated between a, i, and m, with- 
out any obvious difference of meaning. 

4. The n of this suffix has evidently 
arisen from agglutination. Compare 
the Moeso-Gothic blot-in-assus, “ wor- 
ship,” from the verb blot-in-on. No- 
thing further than this has been dis- 
covered as to its origin. 

5. The suffix ness , in English, is a 
living suffix, that is, it has a meaning 
present to the mental conception of 
those who use it, and is capable of 
being affixed to new words. 

6. The suffix ness , in English, forms 
abstract nouns from adjectives. These 
abstract nouns denote 

(1.) The quality, in a substantive 
form, of the adjective from which they 
are derived ; as, goodness , hardness . 

(2.) Occasionally, by a metonymy of 
the abstract for the concrete, something 
possessing the quality; a fastness, a 
’ ikeness . 

The suffix niss, in German, is attached 
also to verbs. It denotes (1.) the action ; 
as, v erderbniss, “ corruption ;” (2.) by a 


metonymy, the subject of the action ; 
as, hindemess , “ something that hin- 
ders;” and (3.) by a metonymy, the 
object of the action ; as, erzengniss , 
“something produced.” 

7. The suffix ness is primarily and 
properly annexed to radical adjectives 
of Teutonic origin ; as, tameness , sweet- 
ness , wideness , softness , thus forming 
primary or regular derivatives. 

8. The suffix ness is annexed to de- 
rivative Teutonic adjectives in ed, full , 
ish, less , ly , some , ward , and y, thus for- 
ming secondary or abnormal derivatives. 
Thus wickedness , cheerfulness , etc. 

9. Secondary derivatives thus form- 
ed, accord nearly in signification with 
the nouns from which the adjectives are 
derived. The meaning only is more 
specific and definite. Thus carefulness 
and care; fearfulness and fear ; fright- 
fulness and fright ; neediness and need. 

10. The suffix ness is annexed also 
to adjectives of Latin origin, both primi- 
tive and derivative y as, crudeness , co- 
piousness. It thus forms a large num- 
ber of words which are peculiar to the 
English language. 

11. It forms synonymes in this way ; 
as, crudeness and crudity ; superfluous- 
ness and superfluity ; pureness and 
purity , etc. The former of these coup- 
lets inclines more to retain its abstract 
signification. 

12. Many nouns formed from adjec- 
tives in this way accord nearly with the 
Latin substantives from which the ad- 
jectives are derived, thus exhibiting 
a singular phenomenon in language. 
Compare morbidness with Lat. morbus ; 
copiousness with Lat. copia ; judicious- 
ness with Lat. judicum. The meaning, 
however, is somewhat more abstract. 


54 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


13. Abstract nouns in ness never re- 
ceive an additional suffix. The geni- 
tive or possessive case, where it is 
wanted, is expressed by a simple apos- 
trophe ; as, “ for righteousness ’ sake.” 
The plural occurs in the Bible in some 
unfortunate imitations of the Hebrew ,* 
as, forgivenesses, Dan. ix. 9; righteous- 
nesses, Is. lxiv. 6 ; Ezek. xxxiii. 13 ; 
Dan. ix. 18. 

14. This suffix interchanges (1.) with 
the suffix good ; as goodness , Germ. 
gutheit ; highness, Germ, hoheit ; (2.) 
with the suffix th ; foulness and filth ; 
highness and height ; (3.) with the rare 
suffix ledge; as, knowledge, Germ. 
kenntniss ; and (4.) with the radical 
noun ; as, goodness and good ; hotness 
and heat ; hardness, Germ, harte ; mild- 
ness, Germ, milde. 

15. These words require a more 
special notice. 

(1.) Seedness, an obsolete word de- 
noting “seed-time,” is probably a cor- 
ruption of Anglo-Sax. scednath , and 
therefore does not belong here. 

(2.) Wilderness, (Dutch wildernis, 
Germ, wildniss ,) “a desert,” has been 
supposed by some to be derived from 
Anglo-Sax. wild-deor, “ wild animal ;” 
but is probably i. q. wildness, with 
epenthetic syllable er. 

(3.) Witness, (Anglo-Sax. witnes ,) is 
probably from the obsolete verb to wit. 
In use it denotes “ testimony,” “ the per- 
son giving testimony,” and is also used 
as a verb. j. w . G . 


“ Life, to the young, is a fairy tale 
just opened — to the old, it is a tale read 
through, ending with death.” 


A Visit to my Native Place. 

M r. Editor : — I have recently 

made a short visit to N , 

where in the days of sunny 
boyhood we were “ weel ac- 
quaint;” where sometimes we met in 
the street — you, from the types, and I, 
from the tea and treacle — to discuss the 
merits of some newspaper poem, per- 
haps mine, or thine, or another’s, and 
as wise critics settled the proprieties of 
style, the shades of taste, and the charac- 
ter of literature in general ; thus shed- 
ding a warm glow upon the opening buds 
of each other’s geniuses, and preparing 
ourselves for the — Well, I think this 
sentence must be finished with a dash. 

I commenced this for the purpose of 
saying that there were some thoughts 
and feelings called up on the occasion 
of that visit, which may not be entirely 
without interest to your young readers. 

The house in which I was horn, first 
awakened a deep emotion. You re- 
member the house, Mr. Editor — the 
large pyramidal-roofed edifice, near the 
eastern end of the wharf bridge. I can 
recall some of the scenes of my early 
childhood passed there. I remember 
the September gale of 1815, when the 
cellar of the house was filled with water 
higher than my father’s boots; and when 
the Methodist meeting house, standing 
upon the bridge, was swept away before 
my eyes, and carried out to sea, awaken- 
ing in its strange voyage, the sweet 
strains of the New London muse, J. G. 
C. Brainerd. As I now stood gazing 
upon my birth-place, I was strangely 
moved with thoughts about my own in- 
fancy. In that room, thirty-four years 
ago, I was a little babe, like the young 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


55 


ling of the flock in my distant home, 
nursed by a kind mother, loved by a 
fond father, and regarded^ of course, 
being the first-born, as a wonderful 
child. I remember the faithful admo- 
nition, and the wholesome, though se- 
vere punishment which I sometimes re- 
ceived as I increased in years, and now 
I wonder how I could have been so per- 
verse. How could I ever have grieved 
that father now in heaven, and that mo- 
ther now in a far-distant State ? Then 
I shed bitter tears, for now I know what 
are a parent’s feelings ; and some of 
your youthful readers may shed such 
tears, if they fail to honor their father 
and mother, as obedient children. 

The school house is near by, where I 
was first compelled to exert my mind in 
the difficult arts of reading and spelling, 
and my memory in acquiring the As- 
sembly’s Catechism. The venerable 
form of the dear old lady, who was my 
first teacher, rises to my view, and I 
bless her now, though she has been 
sleeping in the dust, for her patience and 
perseverance. And yonder among the 
rocks, is the school house, to which I 
was transferred, after having graduated 
at “a woman’s school.” The lame 
teacher, who inducted me into the high- 
er branches of learning, is dead, but 
here still is standing the building in 
which he ruled with absolute sway, en- 
forcing his laws with his crutch. 

The river in which I have so many 
times bathed and fished, is flowing yon- 
der. But how small it seems ! It used 
to appear broad and deep enough for 
the largest ships, but now it has dwin- 
dled down to a mere brook. It is beau- 
tiful — more lovely than it ever seemed 
before, gliding on amid its rocky shores 
2 * 


to mingle with the sea ; but how it has 
decreased in size ! This is a very com- 
mon remark with those who visit the 
scenes of their childhood, that the fea- 
tures of the natural scenery seem very 
much diminished. I think I have the 
explanation of the mystery. As I pass- 
ed along the street, I met one whom I 
knew as a boy, whose identity could not 
be questioned, though now he was a 
whiskered man, leading two children, 
who evidently need not go far in search 
of a father. We hailed each other with 
glad greetings. I knew him as Tom 

S , my old companion in sports and 

mischief; now he is a tall, sober man. 
There, on the opposite side of the street, 
are two trees which I remember as just 
set out, and only beginning to show a 
tuft of green leaves each season ; now, 
see, what large trees they have become, 
almost concealing the house before 
which they once stood as little more 
than bare poles. 

With the feelings inspired by such 
evidences .of progress and growth, I 
turn to the river’s side. • According to 
analogy, it should have spread out into a 
broad lake ; but no, here it is unchang- 
ed, just as it was presented to my youth- 
ful eyes. How small it seems ! It is as 
if we had been children together, and 
while I have been growing into man- 
hood, my youthful friend, stinted in 
growth, has remained the same. And 
yet I like it better after all, that it is so ; 
when this idea of littleness passes away, 
as it soon does, the river seems moic 
natural than any other thing which has 
changed, and as I stand upon its bank, 

I am a boy again. 

My father's grave / Yes, in the old 
burying-ground there is a tomb-stone 


56 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


with his name ; and there, beneath that 
grassy mound, his body has been re- 
posing many years. He was cut down 
in the prime of life, before he could 
know what was to be the earthly destiny 
of his children. Oh ! how many times, 
when far away, have I had a yearning 
of soul toward him who lies here, and 
would have called him back to sym- 
pathize with me, or advise me in my 
course. I am an orphan. I feel the 
bitterness of such a lot, as much as I 
could, if I were indeed a fatherless boy. 
Yet I know that our great Father in 
heaven doeth all things well, and I bless 
him that he has permitted me to share 
in his parental love. Saratoga. 


Monument to Walter Scott. 

» he engraving here introduced re- 
presents a monument recently 
M erected in the city of Edinburgh 
™ to Sir Walter Scott, the great 
prince of novelists. He was a re- 
markable man — a man possessing great 
brilliancy of imagination, and aston- 
ishing power in sketching character. 
He v/rote a great deal, as our readers 
know. His works have become inter- 
woven into the English language, and 
will live as long as the language lives. 
The greater portion of his works are in 
the department of fiction ; though he 
also wrote on philosophical subjects, 
and has produced some very excellent 
poems, 

His novels are, for the most part, 
historical ; and so far as their literary 
character is concerned, they are doubt- 
less nearer perfection than any other 
productions . of a similar character which 


have ever been written. Of their moral 
and religious excellence, not so much 
can be said, though they are far superior 
in this respect to most of the fashionable 
novels of the present day. On the 
whole, if we were asked whether Walter 
Scott w'as the occasion of more good 
than evil by his novels, we should be at 
a loss for an answer. In our estimation, 
his novels alone were rather a blessing 
than a curse. He accomplished a desi- 
rable reformatiom in the department of 
fictitious literature. But his pen set in 
motion a legion of other pens. Hun- 
dreds of second and third rate writers 
have arisen, stimulated by the success 
of Scott, and have together made the 
basest novels, with none of the genius 
of Scott to recommend them, as plenty 
as the frogs once were in Egypt. Now, 

“ The story-telling tribe alone outrun 
All calculation far, and leave behind, 
Lagging, the swiftest numbers.” 

But let that pass. We were speaking 
of the monument erected to the memory 
of a truly great man, Walter Scott. It 
is a beautiful piece of architecture — is 
it not ? If we are not greatly mistaken, 
it is regarded as one of the most taste- 
ful specimens of the gothic order of 
.modern times. 

The Jieight of the monument is one 
hundred and eighty-five feet. Trinity 
church in this city, if we recollect 
aright, is about two hundred and sixty 
feet high; so that those who have seen 
Trinity can form some definite idea of 
the immense height of this monument. 

The corner-stone was laid in August, 
1840, and it was inaugurated — as our 
English neighbors call the ceremony — 
in August, 1846. 


. V 











WALTER SCOTT’S MONUMENT. 




58 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Mr. A. L. Dick, of this city, a cele- 
brated steel engraver, himself an intel- 
ligent Scotchman, some years since 
commenced an engraving of this monu- 
ument, on the scale of twenty-six by 
twenty inches. But while engaged in 
the work he became blind. The en- 
graving was completed, however, in 
accordance with its original design, and 
has since become deservedly popular. 

The architect, Mr. C. M. Kemp, died 
before the monument was completed. 
He had visited the builder to consult 
with him in regard to some details of 
his plan, and was returning home when 
he fell into the basin of the canal and 
was drowned. 


A Laughable Mistake. 

! t seems that there is a very close, 
resemblance between the tongues of 
geese and delicate human fingers. 
Some wag in England — as we learn 
from a London exchange paper — recent- 
ly took advantage of this fact, which is 
not very generally known, to play a 
trick upon the police in the place where 
he lived. He dropped the tongues of 
two geese in the shop of a cheesemonger. 
They were picked up and handed over 
to the police, the whole force of which 
were immediately on the alert to get to 
the bottom of the mystery. All the 
medical men of the district were con- 
sulted, and they all agreed that the 
tongues were the fingers of a young 
female who had not been accustomed 
to labour. At length a postman, who 
was a. little wiser in this matter than the 
rest, pointed out the misapprehension. 
The police and the doctors were well 
laughed at. 


My soul, hope thou in Gcd. 

BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 

My soul, O Lord, on thee relies, 
Though all is dark and drear; 

To thee my fainting spirits flies, 

And to thy throne devoutly cries, 

Nor will I yield to fear. 

My heart, my bleeding heart, shall be 
Submissive to thy will ; 

Thy mercy long has followed me, 

And though thy frowning face I see, 

I’ll trust that mercy still. 

Though sorrow all my hours attend, 

Or when I wake or sleep, 

I know on whom my hopes depend, 

And upward shall my thoughts ascend, — 
I’ll praise thee while I weep. 

In all my griefs while here I stay, 

O’er life’s brief stage to roam, 

Thou wilt defend by Dight and day, 

And safe conduct me all the way 
To my eternal home. 

My home ! no sorrow enters there ; 

No hearts with grief are riven — 
Then all life’s ills I’ll gladly bear, 

Since thus my Father would prepare 
My chastened soul for heaven. 

Mother’s Magazine* 


A Sensible Retort. 

One of our young bloods dining at 
a fashionable hotel, a few weeks since, 
was requested by a gentleman to pass 
some article of food which was near 
him. 

“ Do you mistake me for a waiter V * 
said the exquisite. 

“ No, sir, I mistook you for a gentle- 
man,” was the reply. — Selected. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


59 


The Mother and her Sailor-Boy. 

BY REV. J. SPAULDING. 

W hen he was a little fellow, big 
enough to swing on the gate, to 
see how near he could get to the 
horses* heels, and run after the 
sexton every time he went to dig a 
grave, his mother felt anxious for his 
safety. He was not vicious, but daring. 
Even then his grandmother ventured to 
predict that evil some day would befall 
the lad. As he grew older, he heard and 
read of the sea. He fancied sailors the 
happiest of men, and life on the ocean 
as near to heaven as mortals are allow- 
ed to get. Surprisingly to himself, and 
alarmingly to his mother, there sprang 
up in his bosom a passion for the sea. 
“ May be you’ll be wrecked, or sick in 
a foreign port,” said his mother, — “ or 
be drowned,” added his grandmother, — 
“or have a good time of it,” added the 
determined boy. 

The weeks flew fast, and the sun seem- 
ed to get up one morning earlier than 
usual, to see that loved boy with his 
packed chest leave home. The tear 
on his mother’s cheek shook his resolu- 
tion, and might have stopped him, but 
for the fear of what his companions 
would say. Away he dashed, trying 
to forget himself and the aching hearts 
at home, and soon made the first step on 
the ladder of a sailor’s ambition, by 
planting his foot on the deck of a ship. 
A long day was that to the mother ; but 
longer nights were to follow. Every 
evening the sun went down in a cloud, 
she foresaw a storm to break before 
.morning. She saw the vessel which 
carried her loved one mounting up to 


heaven, and going down again into the 
depths. As the wind increased and the 
night grew dark, her troubled heart 
would not be still till she entered her 
closet and shut the door. There she 
had often found safety and peace for 
herself, and there she sought the same 
for her boy. 

My first meeting with her was the 
other day at the Sailor’s Home in New 
York. She had come from Massachu- 
setts to meet her son on his return from 
one of a number of voyages he had al- 
ready made at sea. “ I used,” said 
she, “to feel very anxious about him. 
Like others, he was full of life and lia- 
ble to be led astray. The perils of the 
sea are sufficiently appalling, but I fear- 
ed more the perils of the shore. The 
safety of his body I asked in prayer, but 
more especially sought the safety of his 
soul. I now feel that he is safe. God 
is his keeper, and I hope that my child 
is his adopted one. Since he became 
pious, I have felt easy about him, know- 
ing in whom he has believed. And 
when he comes to the city, why should 
I not feel that he is safe in such a home 
as this ?” After two or three days the 
vessel was announced, and soon the 
sailor-boy was in his mother’s arms. 
She was more than paid for her journey 
of more than two hundred miles to see 
him. Last evening she left for home, 
and he will soon bound again over the 
billows. Before they parted they wen 
into the parlor alone, where, upon the 
bended knee, they committed each other 
to the care of a covenant-keeping God. 

New York, January, 1847. 


“ Happiness is the best estate.” 


60 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Story of a New England Dog. 

wmt|hat, more anecdotes about dogs ? 
|H|f Yes, half a dozen of them, for 
IWf aught we know, though we have 
only one to tell now, and that is 
about a dog who was born and educated 
in New England. He was a Yankee 


dog, every inch a Yankee. We have a 
great partiality for the land of steady 
habits, as Connecticut is sometimes call- 
ed ; and we shall not allow the dogs of 
Europe, and other parts of the world, to 
monopolize all the credit for intelligence. 
We think the Yankee dogs have done 
their share of eminent things, and the 



EXPLOIT OF A NEW ENGLAND DOG. 


anecdote we have to relate, in our 
opinion, affords some evidence to that 
effect. 

A few years ago a little girl, residing 
in an inland village in Connecticut, 
without the consent of her mother, be it 
remembered, went alone to a pond near 
by to play with her brother’s little 
vessel, and fell into the water. She 
came very near drowning; but a dog 
belonging to the family, named Rollo, 


who was not far off, plunged in and 
drew her to the shore. She was so 
exhausted, however, that she could not 
rise, and the dog could not lift her 
entirely out of the water. But he raised 
her head a little above the surface, and 
then ran after help. He found a man, 
and made use of every expedient in his 
power to persuade him to the spot where 
he left the child. At first the stranger 
paid very little attention to the dog 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


61 


but by and by, he was persuaded some- 
thing was wrong, and followed the dog 
to the pond. The little girl was not 
drowned, though she was quite insensi- 
ble ; and the man lifted her from the 
water, and saved her life, to the great 
joy of Rollo, who seemed eager to assist 
in this enterprise. 


The Untidy Girl. 

Prom " A Gift for my Daughter," an unpublished work, 
by the Author of the " Toung Lady’s Guide." 

f HE untidy girl leaves her things 
scattered about her room. She 
never has a place for any thifig ; 
or if she has, she does not keep 
any thing in its place. She leaves a 
thing where she happens to be using it. 
Her room, of course, is all confusion. 
If she wants any thing, she never knows 
where it is, but must hunt till she finds 
it ; and thus much precious time is 
wasted. If she goes into another’s room, 
whatever article she lays her hands upon 
is misplaced. She never thinks of put- 
ting it where she found it ; but either 
throws it carelessly down, or’ puts it in 
the wrong place. If she goes into the 
library, and takes down a book, she 
either puts it up in a different place, 
and thus disarranges the shelves, or she 
lays it down on the shelf in front of the 
other books, for her father or mother 
to arrange ; or if she puts it in the right 
place, it is turned the wrong end up, or 
the back is put inward. Her school 
books are torn and dirty, disfigured with 
pencil marks, blots of ink, grease spots, 
finger prints, and dog’s ears ; and if she 
borrows a book from the library, or of a 


friend, it is returned with some of these 
her marks upon it. 

If she goes into the kitchen, she will 
be sure to put the tidy house-keeper in 
a passion ; for whatever she lays her 
hand upon is out of place. Nor does 
her own person appear to any better * 
advantage. Her dress is adjusted in 
bad taste. It seems to hang out of 
shape. You would say her garments 
were flung upon her ; and you feel an 
involuntary anxiety lest they shouldyh# 
off. You do not perceive precisely 
what is the matter, but there is an 
evident want of neatness and taste. 
Her hair wears the same air of negli- 
gence ; her face often discovers the lack 
of soap; and her finger nails and her 
teeth want attention. 

These are only a few of the effects 
of untidy habits. The habit once form- 
ed, will run through every thing. And 
the untidy girl will make an untidy 
woman ; the untidy woman will make 
an untidy house ; and an untidy house 
will spoil a good husband. A man of 
taste cannot enjoy himself where every 
thing is out of order ; and he will seek 
that pleasure abroad which he finds not 
at home. 


“A man with a red face, and looking 
rather shabby, called at a house in the 
country on Sunday, and asked for a 
drink of cider. The good lady of the 
house refused, telling him that she 
would not. He urged, telling her thjtt 
she had better, for some persons had 
entertained angels unawares. ‘Yes’ 
said she, ‘ I know that ; but angels 
don’t go about drinking cider on Sun- 
day.’” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


b2 


Tlie Death Bed. 

BY T. HOOD. 

We watch’d her breathing through the night, 
Her breathing soft and low, 

As in her breast the wave of life 
Kept heaving to and fro. 

So silently we seemed to speak, 

So slowly moved about, 

As we had lent her half our powers 
To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 

Our fears our hopes belied — 

We thought her dying when she slept, 

And sleeping when she died. 

For when the morn came dim and sad, 

And chill with early showers, 

Her quiet eyelids clos’d — she had 

Another mom than ours. Selected. 


Living to do Good. 

f the aspirations of the youthful 
M heart are to do good, and be useful, 
JI time will reveal the accomplish- 
*** ment of such desires. They come 
from the source of all goodness, and 
will not return again unladen with 
blessings worthy of their great Creator ; 
for God has said, “ My word shall not 
return unto me void, but shall accom- 
plish that whereunto I sent it.” Such 
were some of my reflections on reading 
the article in the last number of the 
“Youth’s Cabinet,” under the caption 
of “ Taking him in hand,” which em- 
bodied so much of the true spirit of the 
gospel, and withal is so plain, interesting, 
and practical to children. 

In the writer I recognized an ac- 
quaintance of early life. I knew him 
well ; and when I read the article I 
turned almost instinctively to an old 


album in my possession where is the 
the following sentiment from the pen of 
this writer, bearing date twenty years 
ago : “ Let us remember that it is our 
duty to strive to alleviate the miseries 
of the- human race ; that our exertions 
ought to b^ such that the world may be 
better for our having lived in it.” 

Will not the world be better for such 
efforts to awaken, and such inducements 
to cultivate a forbearing and forgiving 
temper towards those that injure us, 
and more than this, to do them all the 
good, which the pure benevolence of 
the gospel' dictates ? If this principle 
is not early incorporated in the forming 
habits of children, it seldom becomes a 
fixed and permanent one. Though in 
later life if it should be that a worldly 
spirit is brought under the influence of 
divine grace it does not act steadily, but 
fluctuates and vacillates, being weak- 
ened in its operations by the force of 
early habits and impressions which 
adhere to us with a strange and power- 
ful tenacity. 

To make the world better, is it not 
then ttf begin with children ? and that 
success may be more certain, the efforts 
should commence in the nursery to 
regulate their tempers and affections ; 
for there early exists a bias, an impres- 
sion, very difficult to efface. 

Their sympathies are then warm and 
easily directed, and if that favorable 
season pass away unimproved, much 
is to be feared ; so important is it that 
they should be gently and imperceptibly 
drawn towards that which is good, as 
a French writer says, “that they may 
enter life in a right direction.” 

Much is to be hoped, from the themes 
which Professor Alden has chosen to 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


63 


accomplish his youthful desire, to alle- 
viate the miseries of the human race,” 
by placing before children, in an attrac- 
tive style, the better way which is so 
happily illustrated in all the articles I 
have seen from his pen. If the power 
of envy, pride, and selfishness is weak- 
ened, it is doing much to prepare the 
youthful heart to receive and retain the 
good seed which may be there sown, so 
that it shall bear fruit unto everlasting 
life. 

That the records of eternity may 
bear witness that the world has been 
made the better for his having lived in 
it, is the desire of your subscriber, 

E. B. B. 


The United States Hotel, Boston. 

® ne of the best hotels, all things 
considered, at which we ever had 
the pleasure of being a guest 
is the United States, in Boston. 
They do not make so much parade 
there as they do at many other public 
houses ; but every thing about the 
house is arranged with particular re- 
gard to the real wants and convenience 
of the traveller. We spent a day or 
two there a few weeks since ; and we 
have not yet got over our astonishment 
that so large an establishment can be so 
admirably conducted. It is the largest 
public house in the United States, and 
perhaps the largest in the world. This 
hotel is located at the termination of the 
Norwich, Worcester, and Western rail 
roads, fronting on Kingston, Beach, 
and Lincoln streets. It was erected 
during the years 1837, 1838, and 1839, 
and was opened by its present lessees, 


Messrs. Holman and Clark, in 1840. 
Formerly it contained about three hun- 
dred rooms. An addition was made 
during the year 1844, extending farther 
north, in Kingston street. This em- 
braces a large ladies’ ordinary, and is 
calculated for the accommodation of 
families. 

During the last year, another addition 
has been made in Lincoln street. The 
whole establishment contains about four 
hundred rooms, and will accommodate 
four hundred and fifty ladies and gen- 
tlemen, besides one hundred and forty- 
eight domestics, who are employed in 
the house. 

The whole establishment is arranged 
and fitted up with reference to economy 
in fuel and labor. A steam-engine in 
one of the cellars is used for pumping 
water, and for various other purposes. 

This is the only large house in 
Boston that is supplied with pure soft 
water, which is brought, in iron pipes, 
from Roxbury. 

There are six distinct flights of stairs 
from the lower to the upper stories, and 
as many different entrances from tho 
streets. 

The whole establishment is spacious, 
well ventilated, and in every way cal- 
culated to promote the comfort of its 
inmates. 


" A certain eminent medical man 
lately offered to a publisher in Pater- 
noster Row, a ( Treatise on the Hand,’ 
which the worthy bookseller declined, 
with a shake of the head, saying, ‘ My 
dear sir, we have too many treatises on 
our hands already.’” 


64 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Goshawk. 



kHE family to which the bird here 
represented belongs, are a thiev- 
ish set of fellows ; and birds 
generally have a very great aver- 
sion for them, and generally have good 
reason to fear them. When a little boy, 
we have often seen the hawk flying over 
the poultry-yard. We knew very well 
what he was about. He was taking 
observations among the poor innocent 
chickens. He was debating the ques- 
tion in his mind, whether it were safe 
to make a descent upon one of them ; 
and if so, which it would be best to 
select. 

The goshawk has shorter wings than 
most species of the falcon, and on this 
account is not so rapid in his flight. 
He was, therefore, never so much valu- 
ed in former times, when falconry was 
in fashion. But we believe he plays 


his part around a farm-house as chi- 
valrously as any poor chicken could 
desire. He is one of the most finished 
rogues that ever visited a poultry-yard, 
to search fctr a dinner. 

After all, perhaps, we ought not to 
call birds and beasts hard names be- 
cause they prey on other species. It is 
their nature. Instinct prompts them to 
seek their food in this manner. Still 
we would rather our little friends should 
copy after the turtle dove, than after 
birds of prey. As says the New Eng, 
land Primer, so say we : — 

“ Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 

For God hath made them so ; 

Let bears and lions growl and fight 
For ’tis their nature too; 

But children, you should never let 
Such angry passions rise ; 

Your little hands were never made 
To tear each other’s eyes.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


65 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


HOW A ROGUE FEELS WHEN HE IS CAUGHT. 

f HEODORE Thinker tells us, that he 
does not know of any thing cal- 
culated to make a boy feel more 
foolish, than to be detected jn a 
mischievous action. He says — sup- 
pose we let him tell his own story — 
“ When I was a little boy, as near as I 
can recollect, about nine years of age, 
I went with my brother one bright 
Saturday afternoon, when there was no 
school, to visit at the house of Captain 
Perry. The captain was esteemed one 
of the kindest and best natured neigh- 
bors in Willow Lane, where my father 
lived ; and Julian, the captain’s eldest 
son, very near my own age, was, among 
all the boys at school, my favorite play- 
fellow. Captain Perry had two bee- 



CAPTAIN PERRY’S BEE-HIVES. 


hives in his garden, where we were all 
three at play ; and as I watched the 
busy little fellows at work bringing 
in honey from the fields, all at once I 
thought it would be a very fine thing to 
thrust a stick into a hole which I saw 
in one of the hives, and bring out some 
of the honey. My brother and Julian 
did not quite agree with me in this 


matter. They thought, as nearly as I 
can recollect, that, there were three 
good reasons against this mode of ob- 
taining honey : first, I should be likely 
to get pretty badly stung ; secondly, the 
act would be a very mean and cowardly 
piece of mischief ; and thirdly, I should 
be found out. 

“ Still I was bent on the chivalrous 
undertaking. I procured a stick of the 
right size, and marched up to the hive 
to make the attack. While I was de- 
liberating, with the stick already a little 
way in the hole, whether I had better 
thrust it in suddenly, and then scamper 
away as fast as my legs could carry 
me, or proceed so deliberately that the 
bees would not suspect what was the 
matter, Captain Perry happened to come 
into the garden ; and I was so busy with 
my mischief, that I did not notice him 
until he advanced within a rod or two 
of the bee-hives. He mistrusted what 
I was about. ‘ Theodore,’ said he. I 
looked around. I am sure I would 
have given all I was worth in the world, 
not excepting my little pony, which I 
regarded as a fortune, if, by some magic 
or other, I could have got out of this 
scrape. But it was too late. I hung 
my head down, as may be imagined, 
while the captain went on with his 
speech: ‘Theodore, if I were in your 
place, — (I heartily wished he was in 
my place, but I did not say so ; I said 
nothing in fact,) if I were in your place, 
I would not disturb those poor, harm- 
less bees, in that way. If you should 
put that stick into the hive, as you were 
thinking of doing, it would take the bees 
a whole week to mend up their cells. 


66 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


That is not the way we get honey. I 
don’t wonder you are fond of honey, 
though. Children generally are fond 
of it ; and if you will go into the house, 
Mrs. Perry will give you as much as 
you wish, I am sure.’ 

“ This was twenty years ago, perhaps 
more. I have met Captain Perry a 
hundred times since. Indeed I shook 
his hand last summer — for he is still 
living, the same warm-hearted, hard- 
working farmer ; yet even now I can- 
not look upon his frank, honest counte- 
nance, but I distinctly call to mind the 
Quixotic adventure with the bees, and I 
feel almost as much ashamed as I did 
when I was detected.” 


One of the most acceptable new- 
year’s gifts which we have had for 
many a day, we have just received 
from a lady residing at Port-au-Prince, 
Ilayti. It was in the shape of a collec- 
tion of charming flowers, gathered from 
their own native home, very carefully 
dried, and very tastefully arranged. 
We cannot tell how much we have 
been delighted with these foreigners. 
They belong to a race entirely un- 
known in the forests and meadows of 
our own climate ; and they afford us 
the first opportunity we have enjoyed 
of making the acquaintance of the plants 
growing so near the equator. 

Dr. Newman, the writer of an excel- 
lent article on electricity, which will 
appear in our next number, we are glad 
to inform our readers, will occasionally 
favor us with something on subjects 
kindred to this, which, we are sure will 


be entertaining and useful. Dr. New- 
man is successfully engaged as the 
editor of several works on botany, of 
which we have more than once spoken 
favorably in our notices of new publi- 
cations. 

m. a. p. must accept of an editor’s 
thanks for the very pretty letter just 
received from her, and for the very ac- 
ceptable token of her good will which 
she was so kind as to inclose. We 
repeat it : it does us good to hear from 
our patrons in this way ; and we hope 
they will not fail to write, though we 
cannot notice all their letters. 

We give our new correspondent i. n. 
x. the right hand of fellowship. We 
shall be pleased to hear from him — or 
her , we are not sure which is right — 
very frequently. But may we hazard 
a single suggestion in relation to this 
writer’s style? We wish he would 
contrive to make his essays a little 
more didactic — to get as it were, a little 
nearer his readers, so that he can talk 
to them, and so that they shall feel his 
heart’s sympathy for a group of light- 
hearted, laughing children. 

We were meditating a kind of assault 
and battery, the other day, — not “ with 
intent to kill” though ; the weapon we 
desired to employ being the one in the 
use of which an editor is generally most 
skilful, — upon our friend and corres- 
pondent Saratoga, for his failure to 
fulfil his promise to us — or possibly our 
promise to our readers — which was it ? 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


67 


— that he would be a frequent con- 
tributor to our pages, when lo! the 
messenger from the post office arrived 
with the contents of the northern mail, 
and among others, a choice article 
from Saratoga. So our wrath was re- 
strained ; and instead of perpetrating 
the assault and battery on him, we con- 
cluded — our pen being ready charged — 
to perpetrate it on the Anglo-Saxon 
tongue, as we think we have pretty 
nearly done in the first sentence above. 
There are several thousands of little 
folks who will thank you, friend Sara- 
toga, as sincerely and cordially as does 
the “ Man with the Magnet,” for the 
touching picture you have given of a 
visit to that dear place where we spent 
together some of the brightest hours of 
boyhood. 

We received from one of our young 
patrons, last autumn, a flower, the name 
and perhaps the features of which are 
familiar to most of our readers. It is 
an interesting flower ; but the interest 
in this particular one was a little height- 
ened by the circumstances connected 
with it. The girl who gave it to us, 
plucked it from a garden in the state 
of New Hampshire, belonging to a wo- 
man who was once a servant in .the 
family of General Washington. She is 
now upward of ninety-five years of age, 
and in the full enjoyment of all her 
faculties. She is a respectable woman, 
and a consistent member of the church. 
We assure our young friend, that we 
shall place a high value upon this me- 
mento, as well of her friendship, as of 
the green old age of her in whose gar- 
den it grew. 


Messrs. Firth, Hall & Pond, are add- 
ing frequently to their catalogue of 
choice music for the piano forte. They 
have just published a charming ballad, 
Oh, watch you well by daylight, 
the poetry and music by Samuel Lover. 
The ballad is founded on a circum- 
stance which is worth mentioning. It 
seems the Irish peasant is accustomed 
to say to his friend, “watch well by 
daylight ; but keep no watch in dark- 
ness, for then God watches over you,” 
a sentiment beautiful and strikingly 
poetic, though not strictly in accordance 
with the truth, perhaps, when tested 
by the steelyards of prose. We must 
copy one of Mr. Lover’s stanzas. His 
numbers are worthy of the theme. 

Oh, watch you well by daylight ; 

In daylight may you fear ; 

But keep no watch in darkness — 

The angels then are near. 

For Heaven the sense bestoweth 
Our waking life to keep ; 

But tender mercy showeth, 

To guard us in our sleep. 


Mrs. Sigourney is thrice welcome, — 
welcome on account of the intrinsic 
excellence of her lay of the Vine, — 
welcome for the kind wishes she brings 
us, and welcome the more cordially, 
because it is so long since she was a 
guest. We are sorry her verses came 
after our January number was stereo- 
typed. Otherwise they should have 
had a place in that number ; and so 
our readers would have enjoyed the 
new year’s gift, as well as ourself. 
Such was the writer’s intention, doubt- 
less, as a note accompanying the lines 
seems to indicate. Shall we copy that 
little note ? Why not ? It was intended 


68 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


for the editor’s use alone, it is true ; and 
yet our young patrons have as much 
interest in it as we have. “I send,” 
she says, “ as a little new year’s gift to 
your ‘Cabinet,’ — or rather as a slight 
mark of good-will to it and its editor, — 
almost the only unpublished verses in 
my possession, not knowing but you 
might like to give your readers an 
illustration of the Vine, or a few 
thoughts on the perversion of the fruit 
of the Vine. I send it with good wishes 
for the success of your periodical ; from 
your friend,” etc. 


We wish Mrs. Sigourney would 
let us tell how much we are indebted 
to her, for a few kind words, many 
years ago. On the whole, we have a 
good mind to tell, and then ask her 
pardon for it afterwards, if necessary. 
When a mere boy, we had formed the 
habit of “stringing rhymes together, 
and jingling sensibilities against each 
other,” according to Carlyle — according 
to our own sage notions at that time, 
of writing poetry. Well, our muse, 
after having found her way into most 
of the albums in our native village, 
essayed to occupy another niche in the 
temple of fame somewhat higher. She 
flew, somewhat bashfiilly, as we recol- 
lect, into the sanctum of the village 
editor, and asked for admission into the 
columns of his “valuable paper,” not 
doubting but she would confer an im- 
mense favor on him and his patrons. 
But so thought not the village editor, 

and the “ Lines to ” went to light 

the editor’s pipe, for aught we know. 
Certain it is, that they saw not that 


kind of light which we deemed them 
worthy of; and the editor was a most 
inveterate smoker. Indeed, he was so 
great a smoker that some evil disposed 
persons used to say that the cause of 
the smoky appearance of his sheet was 
traceablp to this habit of his. But he 
was a literary man, too — of course he 
was, or he could not edit so sage a 
gazette — all the villagers knew this. 

“ And still they gaz’d, and still the wonder grew, 
That one small head could carry all he knew.” 

For our own part, however, after this 
conflagration, we considered him a mere 
barbarian — little better than a Hotten- 
tot, so far as taste was concerned. 

But we did not stop writing — not 
we; though with all becoming defer- 
ence to our juvenile muse, we surmise 
that some quires of nonsense were 
brought into the world through our 
agency, before we had climbed very 
far the ladder of life. 

One day we sat down and wrote a 
lyric, as well as we knew how, and 
submitted it to the criticism of one whose 
name, from our earliest childhood, we 
had been taught to revere as one of our 
country’s sweetest bards — it was Mrs. 
Sigourney. We have wondered a 
hundred times since, that this lady 
could have commanded patience to 
examine and criticize seriously such 
an effusion. She did, however ; and to 
this criticism and the judgment she ren- 
dered, is to be attributed, more than to 
any other cause, the exercise of any 
little poetic talent of ours. We had 
determined to let our muse stand or 
fall by her judgment ; though at this 
moment it occurs to us, that, possibly, 
if her decision had been adverse, some 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


60 


stray rhymes might have escaped from 
us sooner or later. 

The letter we received in reply was 
a model of patience, delicacy, and kind- 
ness. The gifted writer bestowed a 
word or two of praise on those rude 
verses, pointed out some defects, gave 
some advice drawn from her own ex- 
perience, and encouraged us to court 
the favor of the muses. Most devoutly 
do we wish that we could repay the 
kindness she has done us, by reading 
as patiently, and commenting upon as 
soberly, the stanzas submitted to our 
tender mercies from a legion of poets 
belonging to the same class and order 
in which we were ranked, when our 
heart was ' gladdened by those kind 
words. 


This would seem to be the age of 
empirics and empiricism. We have 
medicines — patent medicines — that can 
cure every disease under the sun ; and 
men make themselves rich by vending 
them. We have innumerable hair 
tonics, each infinitely better than all 
the rest, of course, which will perform 
miracles never dreamed of before. 
The nostrums will not only cause the 
sun and moon to stand still, but actually 
send them whirling back again on their 
rail road track. Some people there 
are — and we must confess ourself in 
that category — who are sceptical enough 
to think, modestly, that the age of 
miracles has gone by, for the present 
at least ; and to such it is gratifying — 
it is like an oasis in a desert- — to find 
extensive dealers in articles for the 
toilet, resolutely and conscientiously 
opposed to this whole system of imposi- i 


tion, and who are determined that 
nothing shall be found upon their 
shelves which needs the contejpptible 
expedients of quackery to make it 
popular. Mr. A. A. Moss, the princi- 
pal, and perhaps the only dealer in 
articles for the toilet exclusively, in the 
city, professes to keep such an estab- 
lishment ; and from a somewhat inti- 
mate acquaintance with his articles, we 
believe that those who do not love to be 
duped — a class, by the way, which does 
not embrace the whole human family — 
will find evidence of the sincerity of his 
profession in the genuine excellence of 
whatever they purchase of him. 


A PUZZLE. 

Place the nine digits in the blank 
squares below, in such order that they 
can be added together in eight different 
ways, and the sum be fifteen. 



Those little Green Mountain girls, 
whose joint letter to the editor was 
very acceptable, guessed right so far 
as the identity of the “ Man with the 
Magnet” is concerned ; though, respect- 
ing the little group around him, they 
must guess again. 


70 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Sailor and his Bible. 

real weather-beaten tar, walk- 
ing on the wharf at B , met 

a friend of the Bethel cause, 
and said, with much earnestness 
of manner, 

“I want a Bible. Do you think I 
could get one at the Bethel Library 
Room ?” 

“ Well, I don’t know,” the friend re- 
plied ,• “ there are other good books, but 
I believe just at this time, the Bibles, 
are all gone. Come in with me, and 
see.” 

He came in, and said to me, 

“ Sir, I have come to see if I could 
get a Bible.” 

“ I am very sorry,” -I replied, “ that 
there is not a single Bible on the 
shelves. We are just out, but shall 
have another supply soon. There are 
other books in great variety. Come 
and look at them.” 

He shook his head, and said, 

“ I want a Bible. You perceive I 
am an old countryman. My father 
was a preacher. The last thing he 
did, when I came away, was to take 
down the Bible, and read to me, very 
feelingly, the parable of the Prodigal 
Son. I have often forgotten his admo- 
nitions. But now I have just escaped 
with my life. The vessel on board of 
which I sailed, capsized, and three, of 
the men were drowned. I clung to the 
wreck forty-eight hours, and was taken 
off almost at the point of complete ex- 
haustion. While hanging there, I 
thought of my father’s last instructions 
— the parable came up fresh to my 
mind — I wanted to read it from the Bi- 
ble.” 


The friend who met him on the 
wharf, flew out to obtai n one for him 
that he might have this life boat for 
the poor sailor. I prayed with him. 
While on his knees, he said distinctly, 
and with a feeling heart, “ Father, I 
have sinned against Heaven and in thy 
sight.” — Selected . 


A Remarkable Crow. 

H*|*kHERE has resided in a house 
Rfff in Eyemouth, for the last three 
M years, a very singular crow, or 
^ common rook, which might truly 
be called the mocking-bird of the poul- 
try yard, for so exact were his imita- 
tions of the cries of the various do- 
mestic birds with which he associated, 
that no one could tell them from the 
originals. Many a visiter at his own- 
er’s house was > startled and amazed 
at hearing proceed from below his 
chair, the quack, quack, quack of 
the duck — cackle, cackle of the hen — 
the calling together of the chickens — 
the cooing of the pigeon — and the caw, 
caw, caw of the crow — when all the 
time nothing could be seen except the 
latter named gentleman in black, sit- 
ting with great composure, and Evi- 
dently much satisfied with his own ex- 
traordinary vocal powers. But, alas ! 
poor fellow, his last act of mimicry 
cost him his life. While imitating the 
crowing of a cock, a large game bird 
of that species, either taking it for a 
challenge or an insult, or perhaps both, 
flew upon him, and, strange to tell, 
tore out his tongue, the offending mem- 
ber of the rook. — Selected, 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


•71 


Recollections of Early Homesickness. 

BY THE MAN WITH THE MAGNET. 


hen I was a little 
boy, I used once in 
a while to go with 
my parents on a 
visit to my grand- 
father’s y and I en- 
joyed these visits very much. My 
grand-parents were very indulgent to 
me, and always contrived to make me 
happy. They were good old-fashioned 
farmers The little cottage where they 


lived was situated in rather a retired 
part of the country, quite remote from 
any city or large town. But there was 
every thing about the premises to please 
a light hearted child. There were 
flocks of pigeons, and frolicking lambs, 
flowers and strawberries, hornets’ nests 
and hickory nuts, striped squirrels and 
wintergreen. Then there was a very 
respectable brook close by the old farm- 
house, where I used to amuse myself in 




making water-wheels, sailing little ships, 
and catching trout, or rather, where I 
should have caught them, if they had 
not been too cunning for me. 

1 thought there was no place so 
pleasant as my grandfather’s ; even 
home always seemed very dull for a 
week or two >after I had been there. I 
wished much that I might .live with the 
old gentleman, and I knew it would 

Vol II 3 


please him right well. One day I ven- 
tured to tell my mother so. It would, 
I thought, be a sort of a Paradise in that 
old brown cottage, where I could listen 
by the hour to grandfather’s stories 
about what he saw in “war time.” 
Well, my mother consented, and I went. 
But in less than a week I had a most 
violent attack of homesickness. Were 
you ever homesick, my little friend? 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


?2 


If not, I shall despair of describing this 
disease. It is something like seasick- 
ness, though a great deal worse in some 
respects. Imagine a young fellow, as 
merry as a robin in spring, about a 
score of miles from home. As the sun 
begins to go down behind the hills, his 
spirits begin to sink like the mercury in 
the thermometer. There is no father 
or mother, no brother or sister, to bid 
him good night, when he retires to rest. 
The next day he tries to be cheerful ; 
but he has’ lost his appetite. What to 
him are all his grandmother’s nice cus- 
tards, and nut-cakes, and loaves of 
gingerbread, now ? He goes out to 
play with the lambs, that are grouped 
together under the shade of the barn. 
It will not do. He runs down to the 
brook, to see how his water-wheel gets 
along, and his miniature cotton- factory. 
But his mind is somewhere else. It is 
in his father’s house. See him leaning 
on the fence, near the stream where he 
has spent so many happy hours. He is 
thinking of those whom he loves at 
home — of his mother, singing to the 
babe in the cradle. Dear little sister ! 
how he would enjoy thy prattle now. 
He is thinking of brother, too, his com- 
panion in all his sports. See him 
there — -the very image of sorrow. And 
yet he cannot weep. Could he have a 
good crying spell, he would feel bet- 
ter — a little better. He looks forward 
to the future. There is nothing to con- 
sole him. He is not to go home till 
Thanksgiving; and four months must 
pass away before Thanksgiving. Oh ! 
how slow the moons will travel ! How 
long the days and nights will be ! Poor 
fellow ! he wonders if he shall live till 
Thanksgiving. He wonders, too, what 


he shall do all that time, if he should 
live ; and he wonders most of all, how 
he could ever have been s<f foolish as to 
wish to leave home. Night comes 
again. He goes to bed. But the 
thoughts of home keep him awake. 
When he sleeps, his dreams are of 
home. He fancies himself in the em- 
brace of his mother. He hears her 
musical voice, and feels her kiss of love 
upon his cheek. Sure this is home, 
sweet home. He wakes — it is a dream. 

This, young reader, is a faint picture 
of homesickness. It is faint, because it 
must be felt in order to be understood. 
I hope, however, that you will never be- 
come familiar with the disease in that 
way. But if you should ever think 
lightly of the pleasures of home, and 
sigh, as some children do, to go away, 
I beg you will remember this short 
chapter on homesickness. Home never 
seemed so charming to me, as it did the 
day I returned from my grandfather’s. 


Last Summer’s Vacation. 

t vacation in summer ! how my 
heart throbs with emotion only 
to think of it ! and then to leave 
the brick walls, the noisy mono- 
tony of this great Babel of a city, for an 
excursion amid the beauties of New 
England ! 

Have you ever enjoyed such a luxury, 
reader ? Have you ever been imprison- 
ed in a great city in the month of July ? 
If so, have you not pined for the pure 
air and bright skies, the green fields 
and sweet flowers of the country ? you 
have, I know you have ; and your 
heart, it may be, has beat as quickly as 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


73 


did mine, when in company with a few 
friends I stepped from the wharf at 
New York, on board one of the noble 
steamers which ply up and down the 
Hudson, and beheld tower after tower, 
and steeple after steeple disappear in 
the distance. 

I will not pause to describe our trip 
to Troy. I presume many of my 
young friends have had an opportunity 
to see for themselves the far-famed Pa- 
lisades, and the lovely country-seats 
scattered here and there, upon the 
banks of this beautiful river. 

Upon our arrival in Troy, we set out 
almost immediately for the town of 
B , situated about thirty miles dis- 

tant, among the green hills of Vermont. 

The iron horse has not yet traveled 
ihat way, and so we were obliged to 
content ourselves with a stage coach, 
which would seat comfortably but six, 
though there were fifteen to be accom- 
modated. The day was excessively 
warm, and we had to call into requisi- 
tion all our stock of good nature, to 
bear our situation cheerfully, especially 
as a shower came up very suddenly 
after we got fairly under way, sending 
out of the rain upon the poor occupants 
of the inside, any quantity of cloaks 
and baskets, bandboxes, and budgets. 

The country through which we pass- 
ed is one of the loveliest the eye ever 
rested upon — but though occasionally a 
dashing torrent, or the top of a lofty 
mountain, would call forth an exclama- 
tion of delight, but few were in any 
mood to admire nature from such a 
prison. 

Under these circumstances, we hail- 
ed most joyfully a glimpse of the spires 
of B . It was noon ; the rain was 


over, every thing sparkled in the sun- 
light, fresher and greener than ever; 
and with the thought of unpacking our- 
selves from our uncomfortable quarters, 
came admiration for this quiet little 
nook among the hills. 

After we had dined, and rested our- 
selves from our weary ride, it was near 
the close of the afternoon, and we walk- 
ed out for the purpose of viewing a 
mountain sunset. Being told that this 
would be best accomplished from the 
top of the good old white meeting-house, 
which stood in the centre of the village, 
we bent our steps thither, stopping 
awhile to look at the stones in the grave 
yard close by. 

No lock debarred our entrance into 
the sanctuary, and we paused on the 
threshold to observe the evidence of 
a by-gone age, as exhibited in the high- 
backed seats which permitted but half 
the congregation to face the minister. 

We now commenced our laborious 
journey to the top of the church, and a 
task it proved, as the stairs were ex- 
ceedingly winding. Not a few, indeed, 
were entirely gone. But perseverance 
overcomes almost every obstacle — in 
this instance it did, I am sure — and 
when we reached the “ belfry” of that 
time-worn edifice, the scene before us 
amply compensated us for our trouble. 

On either side lay the two villages of 

B , busy with life and animation. 

Around us were innumerable moun- 
tains, their tops reaching to the skies ; 
and to complete the picture, a clear 
streamlet wound through the valley. 

The sun cast its lingering rays upon 
this lovely landscape when we beheld 
it, and we gazed upon it until the moon 
arose, rendering it still more beautiful. 


74 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


In the afternoon of the next day, a 
party of us set out to climb a mountain 
in the vicinity, of some note, on account 
of a cave in its side. Each one strove 
to excel the rest in his ascent ; and 
when we were all at the summit, we 
were glad to sit down on the green 
sward to rest. The cavern, we. learn- 
ed, had often been explored, but it was 
considered a very troublesome under- 
taking. Most of the company were 
apparently satisfied to look into its dark 
mouth; but a fine boy of twelve years 
of age, who was one of the party, offered 
to conduct any one who would venture 
in, having, as he said, from frequent 
visits, a perfect knowledge of the in- 
terior. Being very fond of such ex- 
plorations, I proposed to accept his ser- 
vices as my guide; but there was a 
general exclamation against this, and 
as it was late, I yielded the point ; not 
so the Green Mountain boy, however, 
who invited me in a whisper, to surprise 
our friends by a visit to the cave early 
next morning before they were stirring. 
To this I readily agreed, and we struck 
off into the woods with the rest of the 
party, to cross the mountain on the 
other side. As we proceeded through 
the under brush, we heard a loud bleat- 
ing, apparently in the direction we 
were pursuing, and hurrying along we 
discovered a stray lamb caught fast in a 
fence, and entirely unable to free itself. 
We speedily released it, and rejoiced 
that we had selected so lonely a path- 
way, as otherwise the poor prisoner 
must have perished. 

The next morning, bright and early, 
I set off, with my young friend for a 
guide, to visit the cave. We were just 
in season to see the sun rise upon the 


mountain, and the exhilarating air had 
a fine effect upon our spirits as we 
climbed the steep ascent. 

Having reached the cavern, we light- 
ed our torches and made other necess- 
ary preparations for our subterranean 
tour. The step at the entrance was 
rather a formidable one, as we were 
obliged to spring down several feet to 
the first ledge of rocks. This, how- 
ever, was safely accomplished, and we 
walked on a considerable distance with 
little difficulty, until we came to a very 
narrow passage. But we were reward- 
ed for the toil of creeping through it 
somewhat after the fashion of a cater- 
pillar ; for we were ushered into a 
spacious room, far exceeding my ex- 
pectations. We busied ourselves now 
in exploring every corner of this apart- 
ment, and collecting specimens to carry 
home with us. By this time, we were 
not a little wearied with our exertions, 
and my zeal had so far abated, that I 
was willing to forego seeing the won- 
ders beyond the room we were in. 
Accordingly we retraced our steps, and 
welcomed most gladly the light of day 
as we emerged from the cave. The 
sun was considerably higher in the 
heavens than we supposed, and we 
hastened down the mountain, lest we 
should alarm our friends, who \vere 
greatly surprised at our feat. 

We spent several days longer in this 
charming spot, enjoying many delight- 
ful rides, and fishing for trout in the 
mountain streams. After visiting some 
of the other New England States, we 
returned to the city once more, to live 
over in memory the scenes of our plea- 
sant summer’s tour, and long for its 
repetition. l. j. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


75 



The Great Horned Owl. 


§ irds of the owl kind, are not only- 
very warlike in their disposition, 
but they are noted for their mean- 
ness and treachery. They do not 
go after their prey in the daytime, like 
the eagle, but choose the night for their 
deeds of plunder. Birds of this genus 
may be divided into two kinds: those 
with horns, and those without horns. 

The engraving represents the Great 
Horned Owl. You see there are two 
bunches of feathers just over each ear, 
which appear like horns. This bird ap- 
peal’s at first view to be as large as the 
eagle. But when we examine his body 
closely, we find that he is much smaller. 

The ears of the owl are large and 
deep ; and it would seem that no animal 
enjoys a more keen sense of seeing. All 
the species of the owl are remarkable 


for this ; and they are all furnished with 
eyes calculated for seeing better in the 
night than in the daytime. Thus the 
wise Creator adapts every animal to its 
peculiar mode of life. You know that 
the pupil of the eye, in all animals, is so 
formed that it contracts when there is too 
much light, and dilates when there is too 
little. In birds of the owl kind, the re- 
tina of the eye, or that organ on which 
the image of the object perceived is 
formed, is so constructed that they can 
see well enough when it is so dark that 
we can see nothing. 

All these birds have a very hideous 
song. They have too much sense, how- 
ever, to indulge their musical disposition 
when they are pursuing their prey. If 
they should, they would be likely to go 
hungry a good while. Sometimes, when 


T8 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


they are unsuccessful in hunting, they 
continue away from home till after day- 
light, and then they are dazzled and be- 
wildered, and unable to find a shelter. 

^Frequently they are discovered by other 
birds. Then wo to the poor owl. 

The blackbird, the thrush, all come 
in crowds, and employ their little arts 
of insult and abuse. The smallest, the 
feeblest, and the most contemptible of 
this unfortunate bird’s enemies, are then 
the foremost to injure and torment him. 
They increase their cries round him, 
flap him with their wings, and are ready 
to show their courage to be great, as 
they are sensible that their danger is but 
small. The unfortunate owl, not know- 
ing where to attack or where to fly, 
patiently suffers all their insults. As- 
tonished and dizzy, he replies to their 
mockeries by turning his head and roll- 
ing his eyes with an air of stupidity. 


The Grassy Sea. 

S hat do you think, reader, of a 
bed of sea-weed a thousand 
miles long ? It seems a pretty 
tough story, but it is true, never- 
theless. The bed is called the “ Grassy 
Sea.” Perhaps you have seen this 
stanza about it : — 

“ A thousand miles, and a thousand miles, 

And yet we cannot see, 

The end of the weeds, the berries and seeds, 
That grow in the grassy sea.” 

Owen Gladdon, who is a very inter- 
esting writer for children, tells us all 
about this large tract of sea-weed, in his 
wanderings in the Isle of Wight. The 
“ Grassy Sea,” he informs us, lies in the 


immediate track of navigators between 
Europe and the western coasts and 
islands of the Atlantic; whether the 
voyage be to the West Indies, or be- 
tween Monte Video, in South America, 
and the great cape or promontory of 
Southern Africa ; or, in other words, 
it extends through the whole Atlantic 
Ocean between the tropics, and thence 
into both the temperate zones ; or over 
forty degrees of latitude upon each side 
of the equator. A bed of weeds, all 
loose in the ocean, from four to five 
thousand miles long, is what you would 
hardly expect to find. 

The old Phoenician navigators, from 
their ports in the east of the Mediter- 
ranean, and so far within the Straits of 
Gibraltar, were accustomed to reach in 
thirty days, with a favorable wind, a 
sea which was doubtless this very sea, 
and which they called the Weedy Sea. 
By the English at this day it is some- 
times called the “ Grassy Sea.” The 
Spaniards call it “ El mar Algoso,” the 
Weedy Sea. It consists of two great 
divisions in the watery space, both 
covered with the floating weed, and 
thence sometimes described as banks, 
beds, or fields ; or as some say, the 
meadows of the ocean. 

The weed bears a berry, from which, 
by sailors, it is named the tropical 
grape. It sustains myriads of sea ani- 
mals, including the birds which prey 
upon the watery tribes ; and presents in 
reality two prodigious islands, or even 
continents, which, though they cannot 
bear the foot of man, nor of the land 
animals in general, yet swarm with life, 
in the reptile, fish, and feathered forms. 
Innumerable species of these find in 
the berries and other .food which they 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


77 


supply an inexhaustible amount of sus- 
tenance. This closely-matted vegeta- 
tion obstructs a ship in her course. 

It was this obstruction, united with 
the extraordinary appearance of the 
tract, which discouraged and terrified 
the sailors of Columbus, or at least sup- 
plied them with an argument against 
the attempt to sail further westward. 
It might not unnaturally seem to them 
that these banks or beds of sea-weed, so 
unlike any thing which they had pre- 
viously beheld in any open sea, bespoke 
the approach of shallows, and of that 
western limit of the ocean, the existence 
of which they obstinately believed in ; 
but they also assumed a religious 
ground, and contended that “ it was pre- 
sumption and impiety to force a way 
where the Creator had interwoven the 
herbage to prevent a passage.” 


A Raft on the Ottowa River. 

g l&wo summers ago we spent some 
six weeks in Lower Canada, and 
Jjl during the time ascended the 
*** Ottowa river to Bytown, a place 
situated some seventy-five miles from 
the junction of the Ottowa and St. 
Lawrence, and as far north as the for- 
mer river is navigated by steamboats. 
This is a very rapid stream. Several 
times, to avoid the rapids, the boat in 
ascending as far as Bytown, has to 
receive assistance from a canal. But 
above this village, a short distance, are 
more formidable rapids still. You may 
hear the roar of the water here for 
miles, as it dashes over its bed of trap- 
rock. 

The lumbermen have a singular 


contrivance to get their rafts down these 
rapids. It made us shudder to see 
these hardy men go over the falls. 
They did not mind it much more than 
our readers would sliding down hill on 
a little sled. We have this moment 
seen a description of the passage of one 
of these rafts down the slide, as they 
call it; and we will give our readers 
the benefit of it in the writer’s own 
language. 

“ A little above the picturesque village 
of Bytown, which appears to overhang 
the river, there are steep rapids and 
falls, by which the passage of timber 
was seriously delayed. To obviate 
this some capitalists constructed a very 
important work by which the torrent 
was first retained, and then conducted 
over a long precipitous slide into the 
deep water beneath, along which it 
afterward continued its uninterrupted 
course. Although the lumberers de- 
scribed to me with great eagerness the 
advantages of this work, I did not 
readily understand them ; in conse- 
quence of which they proposed that I 
should see a raft of timber descend the 
slide; and as one was approaching, I 
got into a boat, and, rowing to the raft, 
I joined the two men who were con- 
ducting it, and my companions who had 
taken me to it then returned to the 
shore. 

“ The scenery on both sides of the 
Ottowa is strikingly picturesque ; and 
as the current hurried us along, the 
picture continually varied. On ap- 
proaching the slide, one of my two 
comrades gave me a staff about eight 
feet long, armed at one end with a 
sharp spike ; and I then took up my 
position between them at what may be 


78 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


termed the stern end of the raft, which 
was composed of eight or ten huge trees, 
firmly connected together. As soon as 
the raft reached the crest of the slide, 
its stem, as it proceeded, of course, 
took leave of the water, and continued 
an independent horizontal course, until 
its weight overbalancing the stern, the 
raft, by tilting downward, adapted itself 
to the surface of the slide, and then 
with great velocity rushed with the 
stream to the water, which was boiling 
and breaking beneath. During the 
descent, which was totally divested of 
all danger,* I found that by sticking 
my staff into the timber, I had no diffi- 
culty whatever in retaining my position ; 
and although the foremost end of the 
raft disappeared in the deep water into 
which it had plunged, yet, like the 
head of a ship, it rose triumphantly 
above the breakers ; and it had scarcely 
recovered, when the raft rapidly glided 
under a bridge, from the summit of which 
it received three hearty cheers from my 
brother lumbermen, who had assembled 
there to see it pass.” 


Kindness of a Dog. — This morning, 
as I was walking with my little son, the 
border of his overcoat became filled with 
burs. We called at a friend’s house, 
and a young dog very deliberately and 
methodically plucked the burs off with 
his mouth. Having finished, he looked 
as if he was satisfied that he had done a 
good deed. gleaner. 


* Ih this the writer is mistaken. The descent, 
particularly in the spring of the year, is very 
hazardous, and several, in attempting it, have 
lost their lives. — E d. * 


A Picture on the Battle Field. 

f E want all our readers to know 
what war really is. We are 
not satisfied that they should 
read about the glory of a vic- 
tory ; but they ought to know what that 
victory costs. Here is a picture of war, 
drawn from a field of battle in Mexico. 
Look at it, boys and girls. This is 
war. 

While I was stationed with our left 
wing in one of the forts, I saw a 
Mexican woman busily engaged in 
carrying bread and water to the wound- 
ed men of both armies. I saw this 
ministering angel raise the head of a 
wounded man, give him Water and food, 
and then carefully bind up his ghastly 
wound with a handkerchief she took 
from her own head. After having ex- 
hausted all her supplies, she went back 
to her house to get more bread and 
water for others. As she was returning 
on her mission of mercy, to comfort 
other wounded persons, I heard the re- 
port of a gun, and saw the poor inno- 
cent creature fall dead. I think it was 
an accidental shot that struck her. I 
would not be willing to believe other- 
wise. 

It made me feel sick at heart, and 
turning from the scene, I involuntarily 
raised my eyes toward heaven, and 
thought, Great God ! and is this war ? 
Passing the spot next day, I saw her 
body still lying there, the bread by her 
side, and the broken gourd, with a few 
drops of water still in it — emblems of 
her errand. We buried her, and while 
we were digging her grave, cannon 
balls flew around us like hailstones.— 
Selected. 


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79 



Ancient Egyptian Deities. 


f oox here, children ! do you 6ee 
this picture'? Well, here are the 
a portraits of a family of heathen 
deities ! But you say these are 
Onions. So they are. But they are 
heathen gods, nevertheless. Yes, so 
superstitious and foolish had the Egyp- 
tians become many years ago, that they 
worshiped a multitude of animals and 
even vegetables. One of their gods was 
the onion. They prostrated themselve^ 
before this plant, and even prayed to 
it! What a curious kind of religion 
will people conjure up, if they have 
not the Bible to direct them. What 
absurd practices they will resort to. 
The Egyptians seem to have gone 
further in the worship of vegetables and 
reptiles than any other nation. They 
must have wanted a new deity very 
badly, when they called the onion to 


their aid. One of the heathen poets has 
ridiculed this taste on the part of the 
Egyptians, in his poetry. He did not 
write in English ; so we shall have to 
hunt up a translation. Here it is : — 

“How Egypt, mad with superstition grown, 

Makes gods of monsters, but too well is known. 

’Tis mortal sin an onion to devour ; 

Each leaf of garlic has a sacred flower. 

Religious nation, sure ! and blest abode ! 

Where every garden is o’errun with gods i” 

We do not know how many animals 
the Egyptians worshiped ; but we be- 
lieve that snakes were among the most 
favored of their gods. One of their 
feathered deities was the Ibis. There is 
a picture of the bird opposite. 

The Ibis was very common in Egypt 
in former years. The people worshiped 
the bird, because of the service they 
rendered in devouring certain mis. 


80 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


chievous reptiles. Cambyses, king of 
Persia, when he was besieging an 
Egyptian city, had wit enough to take 
advantage of the superstitious reverence 
of his enemies for the Ibis; and so 
he placed several of these birds in front 


of his army. The Egyptians did not 
dare to shoot any arrows into the ranks 
of the Persian army, for fear of killing 
some of their own gods. So they 
allowed the city to be taken, without 
making any resistance. 



How thankful should we be, young 
friends, that we have the Bible. This 
is all that keeps us from such foolish 
superstition as the Egyptians exhibited 
in their religion, though there are some 
who pretend to be very wise, that tell 


us we can get along very well without 
the Bible ! Do you value the teachings 
of this volume as you ought ? Do you 
endeavor to profit by them ? Is it your 
prayer that the Bible may be a lamp to 
show you the way to heaven 2 


Youthful Virtue. 

yearly virtue is the loveliest flower 
J&jJ of earth. It has a grace and 
WA beauty in it that nothing else can 
confer. Its charms and attrac- 
tions are acknowledged by all. The 
worth of virtue cannot easily be esti- 


mated too high. It is the honor and 
glory of any people. The praise of 
true piety is known in all the earth. 
To be happy, all should be virtuous. 
But the loveliness of virtue is particu- 
larly seen in early devotedness. It is 
good and beautiful at all seasons of life ; 
but piety gives to the beauty and inno- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


81 


cence of youth a double charm. Gen- 
tle reader, you have beheld the beauty 
of the blooming rose. How brilliant its 
colors, how delightful and reviving its 
fragrance! Such is youthful virtue. 
How 

“ Sweet is the opening flower 
Which just begins to bloom ! 

Which every day, and every hour, 

F resh beauties will assume ! 

But sweeter still that heart, 

Where faith, and love, and peace, 

Shall bud and bloom in every part, 

With sweet and varied grace.” 

Flowers are fragrant and beautiful ; 
yet they soon fade away and die. But 
virtue is abiding. It remains for ever, 
and, like its Author, is to endless years 
the same. 

Great men, scientific men, my young 
friends, form cabinets, and fill them with 
many precious metals and stones. They 
procure, with great pains and much cost, 
the precious onyx and sapphire, the 
crystal and coral, gold and rubies, and 
retain them as the most costly and pre- 
cious gems. “ But wisdom” — by wis- 
dom is meant virtue, religion — “ cannot 
be valued with the precious onyx or the 
sapphire. The gold and the crystal can- 
not equal it, and the exchange of it shall 
not be for jewels. No mention shall be 
made of coral or pearls, for the price of 
wisdom is above rubies.” Here, my 
young friends, we learn something of 
the true value of virtue. Flowers are 
beautiful, jewels are precious, but 
youthful virtue is far more beautiful 
and precious than they. Then early 
secure this priceless pearl, and you will 
find it “ profitable unto all things.” It 
has the promise both of this life and 
of the life to come. Embrace it, 


and then retain it, and it will prove thy 
present and eternal reward. Above all 
things, be virtuous. Then wilt thou be 
esteemed by thy fellows, and loved and 
blessed by Heaven. “ Remember now 
thy Creator in the days of thy youth.” 
Cherish every virtuous emotion. Culti- 
vate every. bud of promise. Abound in 
every grace. Grow and flourish as the 
most tender and lovely flower in the 
garden of virtue. 

“ How lovely is the dawn 
Of piety and youth, 

When doubt and darkness are withdrawn 
Before the light of truth!” 

Urbana, O. January, 1847. I. N. K. 


The Offering of the Heart. 

BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 

Ye friends that soothe my hours of pain, 
My soul shall bless you ever ; 

And friendship bound in sorrow’s chain, 

No earthly power can sever. 

How sweet the tear that from the eye 
Of sympathy is stealing ; 

How precious is the tender sigh 
From the deep founts of feeling 

Ay, ’tis an angel’s task to share 
A brother’s grief and sadness ; 

To woo his spirit upward, where 
It finds sweet streams of gladness. 

Oh ye that soothe my hours of pain, 

My soul shall bless you ever ! 

And friendship bound in sorrow’s chain, 
No earthly power can sever. 

Have patience. You can do any 
thing, if you will. Water may be 
carried in a sieve, they say, if you will 
only wait till it freezes. 


82 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Conversations on Electricity. 

PX JOHN B. NEWMAN, M. D. 

promised, some time since, you 
would show me how to make a 
M number of electrical machines, at 
*** the cost of one cent. Will you 
tell me, if you please, what they are 
made of? 

E. Coarse brown paper, which you 
can procure at the grocer’s. Cut it into 
strips two inches wide and four inches 
long ; and each of these strips will form 
a machine with which you can perform 
all the ordinary experiments. To de- 
velop their electricity, lay your arm, 
moderately tight, on your knee, and 
draw a piece softly between both; it 
will give sparks, excite strongly the 
electrometer, and will adhere to the 
wall if you throw it against it. By re- 
peating the friction, you can charge 
your machine as often as you choose. 

C. What is electricity ? 

E. We, of course, know nothing 
about its essence. Its action is best ex- 
plained by supposing it to be a substance 
endowed with powers, the opposite to 
those of gravity. It has an intimate 
connection with, and is, perhaps? the 
cause of light and heat. It will per- 
form the office of either without their 
agency. A curious illustration of this 
is afforded in the accounts of lightning 
melting a watch in a man’s pocket with- 
out injuring the cloth, and doing the 
same to metals in which gunpowder 
was confined, without igniting the gun- 
powder. What is the reason generally 
. given, why bodies exist in the various 
conditions of solids, fluids, and gases ? 

C. That it is owing to the amount of 


heat they contain — if a sufficient quan- 
tity of heat is added to a solid, it will 
become a fluid ; if still more, a gas. 

E. There are now so many excep- 
tions to this law, that it will only hold 
good between certain degrees of the 
thermometer for each substance. When 
water becomes golid, it expands so much, 
that if confined in a close vessel, even a 
very powerful one, it will shiver it in 
pieces. Iron, when melted and per- 
fectly fluid, contracts ; iron founders 
can tell when it is of a proper consist- 
ence, by its sinking in the vessel. An 
instrument to measure the intensity of 
fire, called a pyrometer, is made from 
clay, which contracts regularly in pro- 
portion to the greatness of the heat. 
Arsenic never melts ; when heat is 
applied, it sublimes, or goes off in the 
form of vapor. These instances will 
suffice to show that heat alone will not 
solve the problem ; and what we know 
of its properties induces us to call in 
the aid of electricity to arrive at a solu- 
tion. 

C. I have understood that this sub- 
stance, like heat, has a universal tend- 
ency to spread itself in all bodies until 
an equilibrium is produced. How is it, 
then, that there can be more of it in one 
than in another body, and that we can 
take this superabundance away ? 

E. Some bodies have a greater capa- 
city of imbibing it than others; and 
thus its diffusive tendency does not 
begin to operate, till by friction or 
chemical action they are rendered in- 
capable of retaining it. If I solder a 
piece of zinc and copper together, like 
the galvanic rings, the latest humbug, 
as each retains its own portion of elec- 
tricity, no action, of course, takes place. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


83 


Now take a piece of each, place them 
some distance apart, in a cup which is 
partly filled by an acid solution; the 
acid will act on each of the plates, and 
cause it to set free its electricity ; and 
by fastening a wire to the end of each, 
and connecting them, these currents 
will flow into each other. By holding 
one of the wires in each hand, the pas- 
sage of these currents will be felt in a 
series of galvanic shocks. 

C. How does electricity produce 
thunder storms ? 

E. In very warm weather, the inces- 
sant commotion amid the particles of air, 
and the consequent friction on all bodies, 
set free an immense quantity of this 
substance. It accumulates in the atmo- 
sphere, and charges the clouds power- 
fully. The thunder and lightning that 
ensue, when this superabundance is 
given away, is nothing more than what 
takes place on a smaller scale, when 
you present your knuckle to your 
brown paper and receive a spark, ac- 
companied by a crackling noise. 

C. In cold climates, where there are 
no thunder storms, in what way does 
2the air become freed from the great 
quantity that is constantly rising in it ? 

E. Nature, at the north, wants to re- 
tain all her electricity. It conduces 
powerfully to the rapid development of 
vegetation, and thus supplies the ab- 
sence of the genial warmth and light of 
the sun. Its great abundance, and its 
constant diffusion, favored by the dark- 
ness of the polar nights, are the cause 
of those gorgeous shooting lights, called 
the Aurora Borealis. Every thing is 
so thoroughly charged with it, that a 
child’s hand will rise to meet the hand 
oassed over its head, and the slightest 


rubbing on the coats of animals, cause 
the sparks to fly as from an electrical 
machine. 

But I must postpone the rest of our 
conversation on this subject till another 
time. 


Monument to Dr. Watts. 

E very child, who is old enough to go 
to the Sabbath school, has heard 
of Dr. Watts. He composed some 
beautiful hymns, you know, for 
young people. There is a pretty one 
which he made, in the old primer, from 
which we used to recite when a child. 
It is so simple, that very small children 
can understand it. Did you ever see 
it, reader ? Perhaps not ; for the New 
England Primer is not as common now 
as it was some twenty-five years ago. 
People are not so fond of primers in 
schools now, as they used to be. In- 
deed, many seem to think that religion 
is not good for children. So they will 
not even have the Bible in our schools. 
This is no doubt a very wise age. No- 
body is in any danger of forgetting this 
truth, and if there was any danger, there 
are plenty of folks who would take plea- 
sure in jogging the memory on this sub- 
ject. It is a fruitful topic. It is a wise 
age. No doubt of that. But then there 
is such a thing as being “ wise above 
what is written and we are told, too, 
that sometimes “ the wisdom of men is 
foolishness with God.” Now it is not 
perfectly plain to our own minds, that 
some people, who are zealous for the 
education of the young, though they 
may have as much wisdom of a certain 
sort as one head of respectable size can 



\ 


MONUMENT TO DR. WATTS. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


85 


conveniently carry, show very much of 
that “ wisdom which cometh from above,” 
when they come to the matter of man- 
aging schools for the young. But we 
will let that pass. The simple question 
is, whether our readers have read that 
sweet little hymn which Dr. Watts 
wrote for little children, and which used 
to be printed in the New England Pri- 
mer. It begins in this way : — 

“ Hush, my dear,' lie still and slumber, 

Holy angels guard thy bed.” 

Watts was one of the sweetest poets 
that ever wrote for music. He put all 
the Psalms of David into verse, you 
know ; and some of these Psalms have 
never been excelled in beauty. 

He was a great lover of poetry. It 
was said of him, that he formed such a 
habit of rhyming, that he could hardly 
help throwing his thoughts into rhyme 
sometimes in his common conversation. 
We have heard a very funny story — 
though we do not know certainly that it 
is true — about his once making a rhyme 
while promising he would never indulge 
in the practice again. Watts was a 
child then. As the story goes, his fa- 
ther did not like to have him write poe- 
try, and once chastised him very se- 
verely for doing so, thinking this kind 
of writing would unfit his son for other 
more rational and useful employments. 
While little Isaac was smarting under 
the application of the rod, he cried out — 
says the tradition — 

“ Dear father, do some pity take, 

And I will no more verses make.” 

Whether the old man was satisfied with 
this promise so singularly expressed, 
and stopped whipping, or not, we are 


not informed. But we learn, from bet- 
ter authority than tradition, that the 
young poet forgot his promise. 

Watts has now been dead nearly a 
hundred years. But his spirit is still 
with us ; and whereve Christians are 
found that sing hymns of praise in the 
English language, there may be heard 
the strains of Isaac Watts. His re- 
mains were buried in Bunhill Fields, 
London. For many years he resided 
in Abney Park. That lovely spot has 
lately been converted into a cemetery ; 
and we learn from our good friend, the 
editor of the London Sunday School 
Magazine, that a monument has been 
erected to his memory. The celebra- 
tion on the occasion of the completion 
of the monument took place in the au- 
tumn of 1845, on the day of the ninety- 
seventh anniversary of Watts’ death. 

An oration on the character, talents., 
and piety of Watts, was delivered by Dr. 
Morison, and one of his inimitable chil- 
dren’s hymns was sung by a large num- 
ber of children who crowded the gallery 
of Abney chapel. 

The monument is a full length fig- 
ure, nine feet high, of Dr. W atts in his 
academical costume. A view of this 
beautiful monument we have engraved 
from a copy recently brought from Lon- 
don. We thought every boy and girl 
would love to see it ; and so we have 
been at a good deal of expense to have 
the picture made for our readers. It 
appears on another page. 

The pedestal of the monument is of 
pure Portland stone, thirteen feet high, 
and six feet square. In the left hand 
of the poet is a book, and two others are 
upon a pillar on the right side. The 
whole is in most excellent taste, and full 


86 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


worthy of the poet whom it commemo- 
rates. The inscription is as follows : — 

In memory of 

ISAAC WATTS, D. D. 

In testimony of the high and lasting esteem in 
Which his character and writings were held 
In the great Christian community by whom the 
English language is spoken. Of his Psalms and 
Hymns, it may be predicted, in his own words, — 
“Age3 unborn will make his songs 
The joy and labor of their tongues.” 

He was born at Southampton, July 17th, 1674, 

And died November 25th, 1743 
After a residence of thirty-six years in the mansion of 
Sir Thomas Abney, Kt., then standing on these grounds. 
Erected by public subscription. 

E. W. Baily, R. A. 


The Fatal Blow. 

» id you, my young readers, ever 
think what a dreadful thing it is 
to be angry with your little 
brothers or sisters? Did you 
ever consider that you not only disobey 
your parents, but offend the great God, 
also, who has commanded us to love 
one another ? Your disobedience grieves 
your parents, and causes them many 
sorrowful hours ; and many and bitter 
are the tears they have wept in secret, 
when they have seen these seeds of sin 
daily taking deeper root, and wider and 
higher throwing out their branches. 

Children are sometimes tempted to 
strike when they are angry ; and I am 
sorry to say, that even this is sometimes 
encouraged in very small children. 
For instance, if the child falls against a 
chair and hurts itself, the “ naughty 
chair, must be whipped for hurting the 
little darling.” Thus the child is early 
taught to seek revenge. 

I will now tell you of a little girl I 
once saw, who was left to take care of | 


a younger brother and sister, while her 
parents were spending an evening with 
some friends. She was a very passion- 
ate girl, 'wicked, quarrelsome, and of a 
revengeful spirit. During the absence 
of her parents, her little brother did 
something to offend her, when she be- 
came enraged, and flying at him in a 
passion, she gave him a heavy blow 
upon the head with a fire shovel, which 
caused him to reel and fall upon the 
floor, insensible. Who can describe 
the mother’s feelings, when she return- 
ed, and found her son in a state of in- 
sensibility, unconscious of her tears and 
heart-rending sorrow ? Never again 
was that tongue to lisp the endearing 
name of mother. He breathed for a 
short time ; and then his spirit left the 
body, and his limbs were cold in death. 
He was placed in a narrow coffin, and 
laid in the silent tomb. That little girl 
had a praying mother, too. 

Children, beware. Avoid anger. Cul- 
tivate a spirit of meekness, gentleness, 
and love, and then you will be beloved 
by all who know you. l. b. 


The Hen and her Chickens. 

very thing, almost, that we see 
JjaJ around us, is adapted to convey 
JRI some valuable lesson. We can- 
^ asS not go out into the fields in the 
spring of the year, if we are in the 
habit of thinking much, after the grass 
begins to grow, and the flowers to 
bloom, without becoming more deeply 
impressed with the wisdom, the power, 
and the goodness of Him who created 
all things. Look at that domestic hen 
in the farm-yard. See her leading a 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


87 


group of little, half-fledged chickens. 
With what industry she searches, among 
the rubbish, for the food which they need. 
Hear her call of love, when the treasure 
is found. Observe how carefully she 
watches all their movements, and how 


earnestly she seeks them when they go 
astray. 

Then how warmly and safely she 
shields them from the cold and the 
storm. She spreads her wings in such 
a manner, that they may all find shelter 



THE HEN, -WITH HER CHICKENS. 


She is regardless of her own comfort 
and safety, so much is her interest ex- 
cited for her young. 

We do not see how any one, who is 
familiar with the Bible, when he sees 
this exhibition of parental love, and 
when he calls to mind the allusion of 
our Savior to this circumstance, can 
help admiring the character of him who 
came into the world to save sinners, and 
who, while he was in the world, went 
about doing good. How beautiful, how 
tender, how affecting is his language, as 
he stands upon the Mount of Olives, in 
full view of the city once so favored of 
God, but which has now rejected its 
3 * 


Messiah : “ O Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
thou that killest the prophets, and 
stonest them that are sent unto thee ; 
how often would I have gathered thy 
children together, as a hen gathereth 
her chickens under her wings, and y« 
would not !” 

Reader ! there are other people be- 
sides the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who 
are equally the objects of Christ’s ten- 
der love ; and there are others, too, 
many others, to whom he may as ap- 
propriately use this language “ ye would 
not!” May you give no occasion for 
the Judge of all the earth to address 
this painful language to you. 


86 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Snow Thoughts. 

BY MBS. E. A. COMSTOCK. 

I do not love the pure white snow 
That on our earth so soon is laid ; 

Though some may think it wrong, I know, 

To love not what our God hath made. 

’Tis not because I fondly craye 
For one whose death in life begun, 

And weep to think upon her grave 
The flakes are falling one by one. 

But when the cold winds keenly blow, ' 

And chilling drops are falling fast, 

Cold, houseless feet tread down the snow, 

And childhood sinks beneath the blast, 

In garments worn, and thin, and old, 

With cheeks glazed o’er wjth frozen tears, 
With tales of sorrow sadly told 
To disbelieving ears. 

Its merry notes the sleigh-bell peals, — 

My heart is glad that some are gay ; 

But fireless hearths and scanty meals 
Soon drive the sunny thought away. 

0 child of wealth ! I ask thee not 
To sit in sackcloth by thy hearth ; 

But are the wretched unforgot, 

Amid thy plenty and thy mirth; — 

Those little ones with starving souls, 

With cherub wings all soiled and broken, 
Whose hearts stern poverty controls, 

And breeds the thoughts we loathe when 
spoken 1 

Amid the mass of human wo, 

’Tis this, ’tis this, my bosom wrings— - 
The palsying and deadly blow 

That vice on helpless childhood brings ; 

The starving both of soul and frame, 

Tne Dosom’s altars cold and bare, 

And in their place foul things of shame, 

With noxious reptiles breeding there. 

Sure God will help the suffering spirit ; — 

The penalties of vice they share, 

Its pangs the innocent inherit, 

A heavy curse the guiltless bear. 


I cannot love this winding sheet 

That wraps fair nature round about; 
’Tis very cold for shoeless feet, 

And there are many such without. 

I know in kindness it was sent — 

’Tis man that worketh all this wo ; 
But wo is me ! till men repent, 

I cannot love the blessing snow. 



The Young Street-Sweepers. 

ill you please to give me a 
penny, sir ? said a poor, wan- 
looking, thinly clad girl, as she 
stood with one hand grasping 
her broom, and the other extended to 
receive the hoped-for penny ; but the 
man to whom her appeal had been made, 
passed on without deigning even to look 
at the humble little sweeper of the 
streets. 

“ Oh dear ! I don’t believe that I ever 
shall get another penny !” said the little 
girl to herself, just as she saw her 
brother, who had been sweeping the 
opposite crossing, running toward her 
with his hand held out and tightly 
closed, as if it contained something of 
value. 


“ I’ve found a ringr ; come, let’s 


g° 


home and show it to mother,” cried the 
little fellow, as soon as he came within 
hearing. 

“ Let me see it, let me see it,” said 
his sister, eagerly ; “ may be them that 
lost it will come back to look for it, and 
we’d better let ’em have it, for I’m sure 
mother would not let us wear it.” 

“ No, but we could sell it,” said the 
boy. / 

“Well, let’s go home,” said she; 
and away they ran. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


89 


They soon reached the wretched 
place, which was dignified by the name 
of home, which they entered, and 
mounting three flights of steep, dark, 
and broken stairs, arrived at the attic 
of the house, where the girl opened 
a door and went in, followed by her 
brother. 

“ Why, children, what made you 
come home so soon ? ” inquired a 
woman, who stood at the wash-tub be- 
fore a miserable apology for a fire. 

“Why, mother, Charley found a 
ring,” said the girl, whose name was 
Mary ; “ he was sweeping away the 
mud, and thought he saw something 
shine, and so when he stooped to see 
what it was, there he found this ring.” 

“ May’nt we keep it, mother ?” in- 
quired the boy. After a moment’s 
thought, his mother replied, “I can’t 
tell yet ; let me see it, Mary.” Then 
taking the ring from her daughter, she 
looked at it attentively for some mo- 
ments, and then said, “ I believe this is 
worth a great deal ; it has some sort of 
a precious stone in it ; it may be a dia- 
mond ; I hardly know whether to let 
you sell it, or what to do about it. 
Well, put it away now, for, at any rate, 
I don’t want your father to get hold of 
it, and part with it for rum. Come, 
Mary, take hold and help with dinner ; 
but give me the money you got to-day, 
firs:,” 

Both children gave their mother their 
little earnings, and after washing their 
hands and faces, proceeded to set the 
table. Mary laid the cloth, which, 
though coarse and old, was clean and 
well mended ; and Charley took the 
plates from the closet, and handed them 
to his sister to place on the table. 


When this was completed, the children 
sat down to wait for their mother, who 
had gone out to buy some trifle. As 
she entered the room, she told them that 
their father was coming, and charged 
them not to mention the ring. She had 
scarce done speaking, when a man came 
in, accompanied by a well-dressed per- 
son, who, from his manner, was evi- 
dently a stranger to the family. The 
husband of the woman went up to her 
with unusual kindness, and told her 
that he had signed the temperance 
pledge, and had not drank a drop of 
liquor all day. He then went on to 
say, that the gentleman who accom- 
panied him, (and who was now seated 
on one of the broken chairs which com- 
posed the principal furniture of the 
wretched room,) had met him in the 
street, and offered to find him work, and 
give him good wages, if he would leave 
off drinking ; to which he had consent- 
ed. The gentleman then took a piece 
of paper from his pocket, and showed it 
to the poor man’s wife, who heartily 
thanked him, and invited him to seat 
himself at the table and partake of their 
humble repast. He declined the invita- 
tion, on the plea of urgent business, and 
took his leave, desiring the poor man to 
call at his house the next morning, and 
he would give him some employment. 

The man went to work, cheerfully, 
the next day ; but in the evening, after 
receiving his wages, as he passed the 
tavern on his way Home, he was strong- 
ly tempted to go in and take a glass. 
His better judgment, however, prevail- 
ed, and he went resolutely homeward, 
where his wife had a nice warm supper 
for him ; and being very tired with his 
day’s work, he did not go out in the 


90 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


evening, but staid at home with his wife 
and children, who were overjoyed at the 
happy change. 

The next morning, he would not allow 
his children to sweep the crossings, and 
as they had no decent clothes to wear to 
school, they remained at home, and as- 
sisted their mother. 

After two or three weeks had passed 
in this way, the now happy wife broke 
to her husband the secret of the ring. 
He took it, and showed it to his em- 
ployer, who offered to advertise it, and 
if no one came to claim it, advised the 
man to sell it for the benefit of his 
family. This was accordingly done; 
and after some considerable time, as the 
ring was not claimed, it was at length 
sold, and the whole family comfortably 
clothed with its proceeds. 

The children now go to school, and 
as the man has religiously adhered to 
his pledge of abstaining from all that in- 
toxicates, including the filthy weed — to- 
bacco, the family are living in great 
comfort and happiness. j. s. b. 


The Prompt Girl. 

From a " A Gift for my Daughter," an unpublished work 
by the Author of the " Young Lady's Guide.” 

f HE prompt girl rises with the lark 
in the morning. When the gray 
dawn steals in at her window, 
she springs from her bed, and in 
a very few minutes she is dressed, and 
prepared to make her appearance in the 
family, to assist her mother, if neces- 
sary ; or, if not needed there, to go to 
her devotions and her study. She has 
done, perhaps, in fifteen or twenty 
minutes, what the dilatory girl would 


be an hour and a half doing, and done 
it equally well. She is always in time. 
Her promptness enables her to be punc- 
tual. She never keeps the table wait- 
ing for her, and never comes after the 
blessing She is never late at prayers ; 
never late at school ; and never late at 
church. And yet, she is never in a 
hurry. She redeems so much time by 
• her promptness, that she has as much 
as she needs, to do every thing well and 
in time. She saves all the time that the 
dilatory girl spends in sauntering, in 
considering what to do next, in reading 
frivolous matters out of the proper time 
for reading, and in gazing idly at 
vacancy. 

This good habit, our readers will 
perceive, must be of great advantage to 
the one who possesses it, as long as she 
lives. It is, however, within, the reach 
of all. Only carry out the idea we 
have given of promptness one day , and 
then repeat it every day, and, in a little 
time, the habit is established. 


Remarkable Echoes. 

& t a villa, near Milan, there ex- 
tend two parallel wings about 
fifty-eight paces distant from 
each other, and the surfaces of 
which are unbroken either by doors or 
windows. The sound of the human 
voice, or rather a word quickly pro. 
nounced, is repeated above forty times, 
and the report of a pistol from fifty to 
sixty times. In Woodstock, England, 
there is an echo which repeats seventeen 
syllables by day, and twenty by night ; 
and there is one in Sussex, which re- 
peats twenty-one syllables. — Selected. 


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91 



The Russian Peasant. 


S f you will take your map, reader — 
that is, if you are acquainted with 
geography somewhat, and most 
likely you are — if you will take 
your map of Europe, and run your eye 
along the shores of the Baltic Sea, you 
will notice a place called Revel. It is 
in a small peninsula, formed by the gulfs 
of Riga and Finland. The country in 
this peninsula belongs to Russia, and is 
called Esthonia. The engraving repre- 
sents a peasant of this country. His 


portrait was taken by a gentleman who 
made a tour through Russia a few years 
since, and from it the engraving was 
copied. 

The peasantry of this country are 
rather rude, as you are aware; but 
they are generally quite industrious, 
and that is a. good deal to be said in 
favor of any people. The picture 
shows you a fine-looking farmer, hold- 
ing his scythe in his hand. Doubtless 
he intends, with this scythe, to mow 


92 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


some acres of Russian grass, if he can 
find any high enough to mow in that 
cold latitude. 

A great many of the poorer classes 
subsist by fishing. The fishermen, 
however, are described as being very 
immoral, and remarkable, particularly, 
for their dishonesty. 

The superstitions of the country 
people are odd enough. When the 
cuckoo is heard before breakfast, for 
the first time in the spring, it is a bad 
omen, — a sign of poverty or famine 
during the rest of the year. Many take 
care, in the early spring, to breakfast 
before they go into the fields, so as to 
avoid the influence of the bad omen. 
If a hare or fox crosses the road, where 
one is traveling, it is a sure sign that 
some disaster is about to happen ; but 
if a wolf crosses, it is a sign of good for- 
tune. If a woman be the first person 
that a hunter meets on leaving his cot- 
tage, it is an ill omen, and he must go 
back and start again, if he expects to 
have any success. 

We wonder if that sign of good or 
evil, according as the new moon is seen 
over the right or left shoulder, did not 
come from these very wise northern 
people. It is quite worthy of such an 
origin, we are sure. 

The inhabitants do much of their 
own spinning and weaving at home. 
The peasants, or poorer classes, do the 
work with their own hands; though 
the nobles, or more wealthy inhabitants, 
generally hire persons to perform the 
labor in their families. 

There are many girls in the country 
who make spinning their principal busi- 
ness. They go about from house to 
house to spin. The gentleman whom 


we have before mentioned, tells us that he 
visited one rich family there, and went 
into their kitchen, where he saw fifteen 
peasant girls engaged in spinning. We 
think the kitchen must have been larger 
than some of ours are in New York. 
Moreover, we guess the ladies of Russia 
are a little better pleased to see gentle- 
men in their kitchens, than some of the 
good ladies of our country. If such is 
not the case, we wonder how the gentle- 
man escaped without paying pretty 
dearly for gratifying his curiosity. 
Possibly he did not escape, however. 
He does not tell us in his book, whether 
he did or not. At any rate, he was 
allowed to remain in this magazine of 
all work, long enough to take a pretty 
minute survey of what was going on. 

Our own countrywomen used to spin, 
some years agcu But the spinning- 
wheel has been exchanged for very 
different articles of furniture. Spin- 
ning-wheels, indeed, are objects of curi- 
osity in these days. We would give 
about as much to see a lady spinning 
flax, in the old-fashioned way, with both 
hands and both feet at work, every now 
and then dexterously dipping her fingers 
in the miniature shell, the growth of a 
plant in her own garden, and moisten- 
ing the thread withal, — we would give 
almost as much for such a sight, as we 
would to see all the curiosities, living 
and dead, organic and inorganic, in 
Barnum’s museum. 

Our modern misses can tell us more 
about the piano forte, and the guitar, 
than they can about the spinning-wheel 
and the loom. We do not say it in a 
grumbling spirit, though ; we are only 
comparing the present with the past — 
that’s all. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


93 



The Russian Lady. 


here is a very great difference be- 
tween the rich and poor in Rus- 
M sia. There is some — too much, 
*** perhaps — in this country; but 
there is a great deal more in all coun- 
tries which are governed by a mon- 
archy. In Russia, the peasantry are 
the slaves of the nobility. Here is a 
picture of a Russian lady, who belongs 
to a class, in their own estimation, a 
great deal higher than the poor spinning- 
girl. This lady is also one of the in- 


habitants of that part of Russia which 
lies on the Baltic Sea, and her portrait, 
all covered with ornaments, as you see 
her, was taken by the same man to 
whom we are indebted for the drawing 
of the peasant. There are some good 
qualities about the Russian ladies, how- 
ever. They are generally acquainted 
with the minute details of housekeeping, 
and do not consider it disgraceful to la- 
bor. In this matter, might not some of 
our mothers and sisters derive a valuable 



94 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


hint from the Russian ladies ? But the 
little girls who read the Cabinet, will, 
we trust, never need such instruction 
from abroad. They are taught by 
their parents, we presume, that there is 
more dignity than disgrace attending 
labor. Strange that any body, espe- 
cially in democratic America, should 
have adopted a different opinion. 


A Touching Scene. 

& French paper says tfiat Lucille 
Rome, a pretty girl with blue 
eyes and fair hair, poorly but 
neatly clad, was brought before 
the Sixth Court of Correction, under the 
charge of vagrancy. 

“Does any one claim you?” asked 
the magistrate. 

“Ah! my good sir,” said she, “I 
have no longer any friends ; my father 
and mother are dead — I have only my 
brother James, but he is as young as I 
am. Oh, sir ! what can he do for me ?” 

“The court must send you to the 
House of Correction.” 

“ Here I am, sister — here I am ! do 
not fear !” cried a childish voice from 
the other end of the court. And at the 
same instant, a little boy with a lively 
countenance, started forth from amidst 
the crowd, and stood before the judge. 

“ Who are you ?” said he. 

“James Rome, the brother of this 
poor little girl.” 

“ Your age ?” 

“ Thirteen.” 

“ And what do you want ?” 

“ I come to claim my Lucille.” 

“ But have you the means of provid- 
ing for her ?” 


“ Yesterday I had none, but now I 
have. Don’t be afraid, Lucille.” 

“ O, how good you are, James !” 

“ Well, let us see, my boy,” said the 
magistrate ; “ the court is disposed to do 
all that it can for your sister. But you 
must give us some explanation.” 

“ About a fortnight ago, sir,” con- 
tinued the boy, “ my poor mother died 
of a bad cough, for it was very cold at 
home. We were in great trouble. 
Then I said to myself, I will become an 
artisan, and, when I know a good trade, 
I will support my sister. I went ap- 
prentice to a brush maker. Every day 
I used to carry her half my dinner, and 
at night, I took her secretly to my room, 
and she slept on my bed, while I slept 
on the floor. But it appears she had 
not enough to eat. One day she begged 
on the Boulevard, and was taken up. 
When I heard that, I said to myself, 
come, my boy, things cannot last so; 
you must find something better. I 
soon found a good place, where I am 
lodged, fed, and clothed, and have 
twenty francs a month. I have, also, 
found a good woman, who, for these 
twenty francs, will take care of Lucille, 
and teach her needle-work. I claim 
my sister.” 

“My boy,” said the judge, “your 
conduct is very honorable. However, 
your sister cannot be set at liberty till 
to-morrow.” 

“Never mind, Lucille,” said the boy, 
“ I will come and fetch you early to 
morrow.” Then turning to the magis 
trate, he said, “ I may kiss her, may 1 
not, sir ?” 

He then threw himself into the arms 
of his sister, and both wept warm tears 
of affection. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


95 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


A WORD TO CORRESPONDENTS AND READERS. 

« ithin the past year, the Youth’s 
Cabinet has found its way into 
thousands of families where it 
was before a stranger. It has 
extended the sphere of its monthly visits 
very widely in every section of the 
Union. Now, our young friends and 
their parents, if they would take a mo- 
ment or two for the task, might contri- 
bute some of the choicest articles which 
any periodical could boast, and which 
would be read with the greatest delight 
by most or all of. our patrons. We 
W’ish to tell such as are really interested 
in the success of our enterprise, how 
they may send us articles which shall 
cost them very little, and which will at 
the same time be worth a great deal to 
us and our subscribers. It is by simply 
sketching life" as it is in the district of 
country where the writer resides. So 
widely are our patrons now scattered, 
that if a few in New England, at the 
West, in the Middle and Southern 
States, would furnish each some picture 
of what is going on around him, we 
should be able to make our magazine 
much richer than it is. 

Tell us, young friends, what you see 
and hear. What is there peculiar in 
your section of the country ? Let us 
know what it is, and what sort of a 
daguerreotype impression it makes upon 
your own mind. Do not give us long 
essays. For our use, they are tough as 
leather, and heavy as lead. Our young 
readers cannot digest them. They 
would all have a sort of dyspepsia, if 
they should attempt it. Dry essays 
about every tiling in general, and no- 


thing in particular, all go into the dark 
pigeon-hole. Give us none of these, 
friend author, — as you love us, give us 
none of these. Let us have something 
written in an easy vein, very much as 
you would talk. Give us your own 
rambling thoughts about matters and* 
things with which you are familiar, and 
every body else is not. 


The poetry attached to the music on 
the last page, was published in the first 
volume of the Cabinet. But we think 
we scarcely need an apology for intro- 
ducing it again to our readers, with this 
very appropriate musical accompani- 
ment. For the latter, we are indebted 
to the politeness of the publishers of the 
Vocalist, an excellent collection of 
songs, 'by Lowell Mason and George 
James Webb, of which we have before 
spoken in commendation. 


Speaking of music, Mr. Bradbury, of 
this city, the gentleman who has been 
so successful in teaching the young to 
sing, and who has entertained the 
readers of the Cabinet with his songs 
more than gnce, has just given a very 
novel and attractive juvenile concert at 
the Tabernacle. It was a kind of ora- 
torio, called Flora’s Festival. It was a 
charming affair. Indeed, how could it 
be otherwise ? There were not less 
than five or six hundred young war- 
blers in the choir, and their voices were 
in excellent tune. Mr. Bradbury’s 
concerts are always crowded to over- 


96 


^THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 

u — 


flowing. But this was, # if possible, 
more popular than any we have ever 
attended. 

Among the letters we receive from 
our subscribers, is occasionally one in- 
forming us that he is obliged to stop the 
Cabinet. Sometimes, where the sub- 
scriber details his straitened pecuniary 
circumstances, and tells us how much 
he wants the magazine for a favorite 
son or ’daughter, who hardly knows 
how to do without it, there has been a 
pretty sharp contest in our mind be- 
tween our feelings and our judgment ; 
and in some instances that we recollect, 
the former have conquered, and we 
have begged the publisher to send the 
Cabinet gratuitously, even, rather than 
deprive one of it who took so much 
pleasure in reading it. Those children 
whose parents are wealthy, and who 
never feel the restraints of poverty, lit- 
tle know the worth of some of the bless- 
ings they enjoy. 

“ The good we never miss, we rarely prize.” 

Perhaps the Youth’s Cabinet would 
seem more valuable to them, if they 
knew something of the sacrifices that 
many make to obtain it. Here is an 
extract from a letter received a day or 
two since, which gives a picture drawn 
by the hand of poverty, and which we 
hope will have- the effect of exciting in 
the breasts of our young readers a 
spirit of gratitude to the Giver of all 
their blessings. The letter is from a 
father residing in New England. He 
says : 

“ It is with remorse that I take my 
pen to write to you respecting my cir- 


cumstances at this time. When I first 
subscribed for the Cabinet, I was in 
good business; but since then I have 
failed, and am reduced to poverty. I 
neglected to pay for the Cabinet be- 
cause I could not pay for it, and kept 
hoping to be able. My little^ Lucy 
Elmira would say, ‘Father, do take it 
longer ; I can’t do without it ; I guess 
you can pay for it by and by.’ This 
tempted me to let it come. I thought 
I should be able to pay this fall. I 
seemed to be more prosperous. But 
my poor wife was recently taken sick 
and died, leaving me with a babe one 
year old. Still my daughter cannot 
bear to lose her Cabinet ; but I cannot 
pay for it now, though I hope that I 
shall be able by and by. I hope you 
will forgive me my folly, and the wrong 
that I have done you. Mrs. L. said 
she should have got out of patience 
before now, if she were in the publish- 
er’s place. I have thought the same, 
and have thought you were very pa- 
tient. You have my thanks for it, and 
if it is ever in my power I will pay 
you. I don’t intend to cheat you; if 
I live, you shall have every dollar. 
I have written, and spelled very bad- 
ly — for my mind is somewhat be- 
wildered. If you would write to me 
what you would do about it, it would 
relieve my mind some. O that I could 
pay for it, and have it continued, for it 
has improved the minds of my daugh- 
ters, and they love it dearly. 

“ I subscribe myself a well-wisher to 
the Cabinet, and may you have better 
paymasters than I have been, or I am 
afraid you will starve. s. w.” 

The writer of this letter is informed, 
that the publisher will send the Cabinet 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


97 


to his daughter another year. She 
may, if she pleases, consider it in the 
light of a new year’s present. 


Here is a portion of another letter, 
properly belonging in the same depart- 
ment, though written in a strain not 
quite so melancholy. The writer is a 
boy, we think, about twelve years of 
age. He lives in this State ; but he is 
a true Yankee, and with the aid of a 
good jack-knife, we will guarantee that 
he will whittle his way through the 
world. 

“ Dear Mr. Editor : — Inclosed are 
two dollars, which I owe you for the 
Cabinet. And now, sir, I owe an 
apology for being so much behind in 
my payments, and I hope you will for- 
give me when you hear my story. My 
father is a poor man, and cannot spare 
the money. I told him, if he would let 
me take the Cabinet, I would try to pay 
for it myself. So he consented ; and I 
went to work at catching muskrats to 
raise the money for you. I had to pay 
the cash for my traps, and the muskrats 
are not worth more than six or eight 
cents apiece ; but I have stuck to it, 
and have made out the money for you. 
Now, Mr. Editor, it is all the money 
I have got, and you will have to stop 
the magazine, unless you are willing to 
try me one year more. I believe I can 
send you the dollar within the year. I 
can, a/ any rate, if fur does pretty well. 
I will leave it altogether to you. If you 
send the work, I will pay for it at some 
rate, if I live. I am going to school 
to our minister this winter, and I sup- 
pose I shan’t have much time to read ; 
but I have two lovely sisters, and I 


should be very glad if they could have 
a chance to read the Cabinet this winter. 

“So good bye, Mr. Editor. I hope 
no one has been so backward in paying 
you, as I have. h. b. b.” 

Success to such enterprise and per- 
severance, as are exhibited in this lad’s 
character. But the poor muskrats, 
though ! We pity them. It seems 
that the lives of about a dozen of these 
fellows must be sacrificed to pay for 
one year’s subsqription. If they could 
speak to this young Nimrod, they would 
tell him the fable of the frogs, and the 
boys, who pelted them with stones. No 
doubt of it. They would say, “ Sir, 
you do not consider that though this 
may be sport to you, it is death to us.” 
We wonder if muskrats are mischievous. 
We hope so, almost. Do they die 
peaceably, like an innocent rabbit, or 
do they fight it out? We should very 
much like to know, inasmuch as it has 
become morally certain, that one of 
them must die every month for our 

benefit. Master H , enlighten us 

on this point. Give us a chapter in re- 
lation to the character of this same 
muskrat family. Your acquaintance 
with them will doubtless enable you to 
furnish a graphic sketch of their man- 
ner of life ! > . 


Here is an extract from the letter of 
a young subscriber in Vermont. It 
does us good to receive such letters. It 
makes us feel that our labors are appre- 
ciated, and awakens the hope that we 
are in a measure successful in our 
anxious endeavors to please and interest 
the rising generation : — 

“ My brother and myself were read- 


93 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


ers of the Youth’s Cabinet the first 
year. I considered it a source of 
amusement and improvement to our 
minds. We had concluded, however, 
to give that up, and take the Columbian 
Magazine ; but when the first number 
came with its bright little title-page, I 
could but hail it as a long cherished 
friend. We have concluded, therefore, 
to take both. The only objection, Mr. 
Editor, is, that it comes no oftener. 
As the most convincing, and I presume 
satisfactory proof of my attachment to 
that book of gems, I inclose one dollar 
for it the present year. 

“ Yours, with much respect, 

“ELLEN L. B.” 


The puzzle in our last number was 
solved by three of our readers. The 
first who sent us an answer, was Master 
B. T. Eastman. A correspondent, how- 
ever, from the eastern shore of Long 
Island, has not only given a solution of 
this puzzle, but furnished a general clue 
for finding out all such puzzles. So 
stand back, young masters and misses, 
and make room for the humorous Long 
Islander, who seems to be one of the 
Magi. Please to make room for him, 
with his diagrams and his puns, his 
diagonals and his magical lore. Here 
is his letter in full. 

Has “ The Man with the Magnet” 
turned magician ? was the inquiry sug- 
gested by the sight of a magic square 
in the last number of the Cabinet, page 
60. True, he calls it a puzzle — but it 
is magic for all that — all magic is a 
puzzle, though all puzzles are not ma- 
gic. Now Mr. Magnet, as science is 
the best antagonist of magic, allow me 


to give M. Bachet’s rule for solving all 
such cases. 

Squares are magic when the numbers 
placed in them amount to the same sum 
if added “ in eight different ways.” 
These numbers are either the squares 
of odd numbers or of even ones. 

If it be the former, for example, 9, 
25, 49, 81, etc., proceed as follows. 

1. Draw a square, and divide it into 
as many cells as there are separate 
numbers, and in these place the num- 
bers in their natural order — thus, in the 
case you propose the square of three : — 


* / 

/ 

\ 

\ 2 y 

3 

/’ \ N 

{ 4 

( 5 ; 
\ w / 

f 6 \ 

\ / 

/ 

' * 


9 


2. Insert another square in this by 
bisecting each of the boundary lines. 
Divide this inner square into cells as 
before. 

The dotted square has now four cells 
blank • the full ones stand thus : — 

4 3 

5 

8 C 

To fill these blanks, consider 5 as the 
centre of the square ; then let the figure 
above it and that below it change places 
with each other, and the one to the right 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


09 


and that to the left of it do likewise, and 
the result is gained. 

4 9 2 

3 5 7 

8 16 

In this way, some of your readers 
may arrange the numbers from 1 to 25, 
or the square of 5, so as to make 65 if 
added together, in eight different ways. 

If the number be even, or the square 
of an even number — draw and divide 
a square as before, and insert the num- 
bers. For example, you wish to con- 
struct a magic square of 4. Then draw 
two diagonal lines, thus : 


' 1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9 

10 

% 

11 

12 

13 

14 

15 

16 


The figures crossed by these lines are 
the diagonals of the magic square. For 
example : 

1 4 

6 7 

10 11 


To fill up the blanks, begin at 16, 
and insert the numbers not already 
down in reverse order, and the square 
is complete, and will be — 

1 15 14 4 

12 6 7 9 

8 10 11 5 

13 3 2 16 

and these added together in eight differ- 
ent ways will make 34. Try it boys, 
and see. 

This subject of magic squares and 
circles, is a very curious one, and was 
studied not a little by men, whose trifles 
tax our deepest thoughts. The reader 
may find this among other curious 
things in the Edinburgh Encyclopedia, 
under the article “ Science. ” 

It may be, Mr. Magnet, that you 
will not deem this worth inserting. 
Well, if you do not, just use it to light 
your pipe. I forget — you are no smo- 
ker. Well, then, the pipe through 
which you blow your next blast against 
tobacco. n. T. H. 


We have received from one of our 
young subscribers, a beautiful present 
of a book mark, bearing the very ap- 
propriate motto, “Feed my lambs,” in 
connection with a suitable device. We 
shall endeavor to show that we appre- 
ciate this token of kind regard, in obey- 
ing the injunction which will now so 
often meet our eye. 


13 


16 



100 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


KF* With the April number, sub- 
scribers who are indebted for the pre- 
sent year, as well as those who are 
delinquent for past subscriptions, will 
receive their bills. It is to be hoped 
that all will save the publisher fu- 
ture trouble, by sending the amount 
in a letter to the publication office. 
The publisher considers all monies 
addressed to him for subscriptions, 
through the mail, at his own risk. 
Those who send the amount due pre- 
vious to the first of April, will receive 
a receipt in our next number. 


HEP Persons who now wish to discon- 
tinue the Cabinet from the commence- 
ment of the present volume, and who 
neglected to signify such wish at that 
time, are notified that payment will be 
expected of them for the three numbers 
already received. We intend turning 
over a new leaf in this matter. We 
think we have discovered an excellent 
remedy for this carelessness among 
subscribers. 


We are obliged to decline numerous 
propositions to exchange from very re- 
spectable sources. We hope this will 
in no case be interpreted either as a 
mark of disrespect, or as an indication 
that we place a higher value upon our 
magazine, than upon the periodical re- 
fused in exchange. The truth is, we 
are overburdened with exchanges ; and 
as we extract very little, almost nothing, 
from the columns of the periodical 
press, we cannot extend our list, unless 
in peculiar cases, without detriment to 
our own interest. 


A few months since, we expressed a 
wish, in one of our editorial conversa- 
tions with our readers, that we might 
have some description of life upon the 
the prairies of the west, from some one 
of our patrons in that interesting part 
of the country. A correspondent re- 
siding in Iowa, has responded to the 
invitation, and will tell his story in a 
future number of the Cabinet. He 
came too late for this month. We aie 
much pleased with the article. It will 
be interesting to every body. 


Several articles are accepted, and on 
file for future publication. 

We hardly know what to say about 
“The Philosopher’s Scales.” The ar- 
ticle is good; but we are afraid it is 
a little too long, and scarcely simple 
enough for our pages. 

What shall we do with a communica- 
tion received some time since, but 
which we declined, because we could 
not comply with the terms of the waiter ? 


IW The publishers of those newspa- 
pers and magazines who exchange with 
us, and who have formerly addressed 
the “ Sabbath School Monitor,” will 
oblige us by discontinuing this address, 
and directing in future to the Youth’s 
Cabinet. 


The article headed, “ The Young 
Street Sweepers,” was written by one 
of our subscribers only ten years of 
age. With the exception of a very 
few verbal alterations, the article is his 
own entirely. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


101 


Anecdotes About Monkeys. * 

t N impertinent curiosity runs 
through all the actions of the 
whole monkey tribe. They can 
never let things alone, but 
must know what is going forward. 
If a pot or kettle is set on the fire, 
and the cook turns her back, the 
monkey whips off the cover to see 
what she has put in it, even though 
he cannot get at it without setting 
his feet upon the hot bars of the 
grate. 

No monkey has any sense of gra- 
titude, but takes his food with a 
snatch, and then grins in the face of 
the person who gives it to him, lest 
he should take it away again ; for he 
supposes all men will snatch what 
they can lay hold of, as all monkeys 
do. Through an invincible selfishness 
no monkey ever considers an indivi- 
dual but himself, as the poor cat found 
to her cost, when the monkey burned 
her paws with raking his chestnuts 
out of the fire. They ndvfer eat to- 
gether in company, without quarreling 
and plundering one another. Every 
monkey delights in mischief, and can- 
not help doing it when it is in his 
power. If any thing he takes hold 
of can be broken or spoiled, he is 
sure to find the way of doing it; and 
he chatters with pleasure when he 
hears the noise of a china vessel 
smashed to pieces upon the pave- 
ment. If he takes up a bottle of ink, 
he empties it upon the floor. He un- 
folds all your papers, and scatters 
them about the room, and what he 
cannot undo, he tears to pieces ; and 
it is wonderful to see how much of 


this work he will do in a few min- 
utes when he gets loose. 

When the wild monkeys have es- 
caped to the tops of trees, the people 
below who want to catch them, show 
them the use of gloves, by putting 
them on and pulling them off repeat- 
edly, and when the monkeys are sup- 
posed to have taken the hint, they 
leave plenty of gloves on the ground, 
having first lined them with pitch. 
The monkeys come down, put on 
the gloves, but cannot take them off 
again; and when surprised, betaking 
themselves to the trees as usual, they 
slide backward, and are taken. 

A well known nobleman once had 
a wild horse whom nobody could 
ride. “ I know not what your lord- 
ship can do with him,” said one ; 
“but set the monkey upon his back.” 
So they put a pad to the horse, and 
set the monkey upon it with a switch 
in his hand, which he used upon the 
horse, and set him into a furious 
kicking and galloping ; but Pug kept 
his seat, and exercised his switch. 
The horse lay down upon the ground ; 
but, when he threw himself on one 
side, the monkey was on the other. 
He ran into a wood with him to brush 
him off ; but if a tree or a bush oc- 
cured on one side, the monkey slipped 
to the other side, till at last the horse 
was so sickened, and fatigued, and 
broken-spirited, that he ran home to 
the stable for protection. When the 
monkey was removed, a boy mount- 
ed the horse, who managed him with 
ease, and he never gave any trouble 
after it. The monkey had subdued 
the high-spirited fellow, so that he was 
perfectly tame. — Selected. 


102 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


The Hero. 


COPIED, BY PERMISSION, FROM THE VOCALIST, BY L. MASON AND O. J. -WEBB. 




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I lost my leg — the foe came on — 
They had me in their clutches — 

I starved in prison till the peace, 
Then hobbled home on crutches. 


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3. We met the foe — the cannons roared — 
The crimson tide was flowing — 

The frightful death-groans filled my ears — 
I wished that I was mowing. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


103 


April Showers and May Flowers. 

ST THEODORE THINKER. 



What do 


ow that the snow- 
banks have melted 
away, and the warm 
rain-drops glitter on 
the green blades of 
grass — now that winter has 
loosened his chains again, so 
that the earth can bear the 
beautiful flowers upon her 
bosom, suppose we talk a 
little about the flowers, 
you say, boys and girls? 
Are you all agreed ? Where shall we 
begin? I have a good mind to begin 
just where nature does, and so follow 
her along through the summer. 

You have learned, long ago, that 
Theodore is a great admirer of nature. 
You know, too, that he is especially 
fond of flowers, and that he is never so 
happy as when he has a group of little 
folks about him, in the meadow, talking 
about the pretty faces that are blushing 
in the green grass. But Theodore is 
not a man of one idea, exactly. He 
does not ask his young friends to talk 
about botany all the time, as if that was 
all there was in the world worth talking 
about. Still, as spring and summer 
advance, I have a mind to devote a 
chapter to that subject once in a while, 
if you please. 

As long ago as I can remember, 
almost, I used to hear people repeat 
this couplet: — 

“ April showers 
Bring May flowers,” 

and I supposed, either from this truism, 
Vol II. 4 


or for some other reason, that there 
was a sort of embargo laid on flowers, 
so that none of them, in our latitude 
dare bloom till the month of May set in. 
But this is a mistake. Some of them — 
and very many pretty ones, too — unfold 
their delicate petals in the month of 
of April, and are kissed by these same 
April showers. One of them has a leaf 
something like this. 



If you should find, during this month, 
in the latitude of Massachusetts, a part 
of New York, Ohio, and Michigan, a 
little flower, so modest that its head is 
scarcely raised above the ground, with 
two or three such leaves as this, you 
may be sure it is the Hepatica, or 
Liverleaf. Those of our friends who 
live in the Southern States — and we do 
not forget that there are many such — 
will not find the flower so late as this, 
perhaps ; and it may be they will not 
find it at all. The Liverleaf is a tenant 
of the woods, and loves to dwell there 
better that any where else. A few 
years ago, I transplanted a family of 
these interesting sisters to the garden. 
I brought some of their native earth 
with them, and gave them a home amid 
the green grass, as they were wont to 



104 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


bloom in the forest. I gave them, too, 
for their comfort, some of the withered 
leaves of the oak and the chesnut, for a 
pillow. They bloomed early that spring, 
as sweetly almost, not quite, as they 
did in their native bed. The next 
spring they came up again, and again 
they cheered us with their smiles ; but 
there was a sadness in their countenance 
which told plainly of a decline. They 
were more pale than their sisters of 
the woods. Their heads drooped more 
languidly, and they were very frail. 
They had not strength enough to resist 
the wind and the rain. They seemed 
homesick. The next spring came ; 
but the poor immigrants felt not its 
warm breath, nor heeded its tears. 
They never bloomed again. They 
were dead. The earth nourished them 
on her bosom awhile ; then it became 
their grave. 

It would seem that there is a kind 
of sympathy between each wild flower, 
and the objects familiar to them in their 
native home ; and that this sympathy is 
so strong, that when they are separated 
they droop and die. But perhaps there 
is more poetry than truth in the idea. 
No matter if there is. Children, accus- 
tomed to think, will find a good moral 
here, at any rate, and with this I shall 
close my chapter, pretty well aware 
that I have done nothing more than to 
erect a large portico for a small build- 
ing. In this thing, however, I have 
only imitated the example of that very 
sensible Dutchman, and discreet archi- 
tect, the great-grandfather of Knicker- 
bocker, by his mother’s side, who is 
reputed to have spent some considerable 
time in arranging his plans before he 
laid his corner-stone. 


Traveling in labrador. 

« tjr readers have all heard, no 
doubt, that on the, northern coast 
of Labrador, as well as in some 
other countries, the people are 
drawn by dogs, on a kind of vehicle, 
somewhat like a sleigh, called a sledge. 
But we must tell them a story about an 
adventure by some missionaries in La- 
brador, which happened some years 
ago, when they were traveling in this 
manner across an arm of the sea. The 
story is related in an English work on 
the history of missions, though we shall 
not tell it precisely in the author’s 
word§. 

These missionaries were Moravians. 
You know how much self-denial these 
people have shown in teaching the poor 
ignorant savages, in different parts of 
the world. Well, some of the Mora- 
vians had found their way into the cold 
climate of northern Labrador, and were 
engaged there in their pious labors. 
One day they had occasion to cross an 
arm of the sea, several miles in width, 
on the ice. They harnessed their dogs, 
and set out. They had not proceeded 
more than half way, before they per- 
ceived signs of what is called a ground 
swell in the ice. On lying down, and 
placing the ear close to the ice, they 
heard a hollow grating noise coming 
from underneath. By and by the wind 
rose to a storm, and the swell inci eased 
so much, that its effects were greatly 
alarming. The sledges did not glide 
smoothly along, as before. The sur- 
face presented the appearance of hills 
and valleys. Noises were heard, from 
the bursting of ice at a distance, like 
the report of cannon. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


105 


The travelers were alarmed, and pro- 
ceeded with all possible speed toward 
the shore. As they approached it, the 
prospect was tremendous. The ice, 
having burst loose from the rocks, was 
tossed about, and broken in a thousand 
pieces against the precipices. The sea 
roared ; the snow drove against them 
with fury, and they could scarcely see 
where to go. It was with the greatest 
difficulty that the dogs could be driven 
forward, they were so frightened. The 
whole body of the ice frequently sank 
below the summits of the rocks, and 
then rose above them. The only time 
for landing was the moment when the 
ice gained the level of the coast; so 
that the attempt to land was exceedingly 
difficult and hazardous. 

The sledges, however, succeeded in 
reaching the shore. Scarcely had they 
landed, when that part of the ice from 
which they had just escaped burst asun- 
der, and the water, rushing up from be- 
neath, forced it into the ocean. In a 
moment, as if by a signal, the whole 
mass of ice, for several miles along 
the coast, as far as the eye could reach, 
began to give way to the waves. The 
scene is described as awfully grand. 
The immense fields of ice, rising out of 
the ocean, dashing against each other, 
and then plunging into the deep with a 
terrible violence, and a noise like the 
discharge of a thousand cannon, was a 
scene which overwhelmed the mission- 
aries with emotions of sublimity and 
awe. 


“He who gives a listening ear to re- 
proach, is one of those who deserve re- 
proach.” 


Tlie Sister’s: Grave. 

“ Why doth my mother weep 
For sister’s quiet sleep? 

She dreams, perhaps, of me — 

You told me on the day 
That she was borne away, 

In heaven you hoped I might my sister see.” 

“ Nay, child, this is her grave ; 

You now no sister have — 

Our dearest Sarah Ann is dead. 

Sweet babe ! she’ll smile no more ; 

Her grave we weep before, 

Where damp, cold earth, now pillows up her 
head.” 

“ But, mother, she will come, 

And dwell with us at home, 

And I shall give her kindly care, 

And she will smile on me.” 

" Nay, heaven her home must be.” 

“ But, mother, will not all be happy there?” 

s. 


Try. 

W here was once upon a time a good 
little dwarf named Try, who was 
so powerful that he overcame al- 
*** most every thing he attempted ; and 
yet he was so small and ill-favored, that 
people laughed when they were told of 
his wondrous powers. But the tiny man 
was so kind at heart, and loved so much 
to serve his unfortunate and desponding 
brethren, that he would go and beg of 
those who knew him better, to intercede 
for him, so that he might be allowed to 
help them out of their troubles; and 
when he had made them happy, they no 
longer despised him, but loved him as 
their truest friend. Yet the only return 
this good dwarf sought for all this, was, 
that when they heard of any one who 
wanted a helping hand, they would say 
a good word in his favor, and recom- 
mend them to — try. — The Good Genius . 


106 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Fairy land. 

f HE idea of fairies is as old as the 
memory of man. They have 
been pictured by the imagination 
as the impersonations of beauty 
in life, divested of the cares and sor- 
rows of all human experience. En- 
dowed with etherial spirits, they have 
been looked upon as the good geniuses 
of fortune’s favorites, from whose pre- 


sence witches and demons fled away 
nor left a cloud to mar the glorious 
light of joy. 

The notion of these aerial impersona- 
tions is a pleasant and sublime fiction. 
Nor is it all fiction ; for much in real 
life seems light reflected from a fairy 
land. The sunny scenes which smiled 
around our childhood’s home, are me- 
mory’s dreams of fairy charms in life. 

Here is a picture of a fairy dance. 



THE DANCE OP THE FAIRIES. 


Twilight has deepened into evening’s 
gloom, and the stars but feebly shine, 
till the moon looks forth above the dis- 
tant hills, and sheds a brilliancy on all 
the landscape. Then come these phan- 
toms, as if breathing song, and dance 
as to the silent music of admiring na- 
ure — spirits of air, who never tire 
through the live-long night, but dance 
and smile, as if the harmony of earth 


and air and sky were joined to greet 
them from their spirit world. 

But we have really seen, even in 
childhood’s days, the same dull evening 
sky, rekindled by the same silver moon, 
while charms so strange and novel 
crept over die landscape, that our eve- 
ning sports seemed as the dreams from 
which we wake to ask if ever such will 
cross our path again. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


107 


But all these phantoms of real life, 
or dreams, or fables, are fading vani- 
ties, alluring to deceive, until they pass 
away, and leave the heart to utter des- 
olation. The soul might wander back 
a thousand years, and treasure all the 
lights from fairy land, and famish still 
in anguish worse than death. A phan- 
tom world of intellect and imagery 
must yield the heart to the real inter- 
ests of earth and heaven. Our only 
fairy land should be the Zion of the 
Lord, or thvB new Jerusalem which John 
saw fall from heaven ; our landscapes 
only on the banks of the pure river of 
life, flowing from the throne of God, 
where grows the tree whose leaves can 
heal the nations. It is well that heaven 
is not a fairy land, but real as the earth 
we tread on, and 'that which will en- 
dure when earth and suns shall be no 
more. j. m. s. 


Exaggerated Expressions. 

ome time ago, a correspondent, 
iM whom I would not willingly neg- 
S\f| lect, requested me to pen a few 
plain remarks on the common evil 
of giving utterance to inflated expres- 
sions and remarks in common conver- 
sation. 

It is a somewhat ungrateful task to 
tell those who would shrink from the 
imputation of a falsehood that they are 
in the daily habit of uttering untruths ; 
and yet, if I proceed, no other course 
than this can be taken by me. It is of 
no use to adopt half measures; plain 
speaking saves a deal of trouble. 

I love the man who steps along on 
his toes, that he may not tread on the 


toes or the heels of his neighbors. 
Some are remarkable for this habitual 
tenderness to their fellow-creatures, and 
it does my heart good to see it ; but in 
a case where trifling is losing time, and 
decision is rarely necessary, we must 
run the risk of giving offence if we 
would really do good. 

My correspondent says that I make 
capital “caps;” and that if all those 
who need them would wear them, my 
hints would be very profitable. I am, 
however, sadly afraid that most of the 
caps I make would fit my own head 
quite as well as they would fit the 
heads of my neighbors. But to my 
task. 

The examples about to be given by 
me of exaggerated expressions, are only 
a few of the many that are constantly 
in use. Whether you can acquit your- 
selves of the charge of occasionally 
using them, I cannot tell; but I dare 
not affirm for myself that I am alto- 
gether guiltless. 

“ I was caught in the wet last night ; 
the rain came down in torrents.” Most 
of us have been out in heavy rains; 
but a torrent of water pouring down 
from the skies would a little surprise 
us, after all. 

“ I am wet to the skin, and have not 
a dry thread upon me.” Where these 
expressions are once used correctly, 
they are used twenty times in opposition 
to the truth. 

“ I tried to overtake him, but in vain ; 
for he ran like lightning.” The cele- 
brated race-horse Eclipse is said to 
have run a mile in a minute, but poor 
Eclipse is left sadly behind by this 
expression. 

“He kept me standing out in the 


108 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


cold so long, I thought I should have 
waited forever.” There is not a parti- 
cle of probability that such a thought 
could have been for one moment en- 
tertained. 

“As I came across the common, the 
wind was as keen as a razor.” This is 
certainly a very keen remark, but the 
worst of it is that its keenness far ex- 
ceeds its correctness. 

“ I went to the meeting, but had hard 
work to get in ; for the place was 
crowded to suffocation.” In this case, 
in justice to the veracity of the relator, 
it is necessary to suppose that successful 
means had been used for his recovery. 

“When I mentioned it to her, she 
turned as pale as a sheet.” I am 
skeptical enough to believe that had an 
actual comparison taken place, it would 
have been found otherwise. 

“I have been sadly troubled with 
head-ache ; I thought I should have 
died, I was so ill.” If they who use 
this expression on every light occasion, 
did really reflect on death as frequently 
as they represent themselves to do so, it 
might be attended with the most salutary 
consequences. 

“You would hardly know her again, 
she is as thin as a thread-paper.” 
Either the thread-paper must have been 
of an unusual size, or she must have 
been very thin indeed. 

“We came along the lane, a horrid 
road, up to our knees in mud.” Some 
people a little more diffident, satisfy 
themselves with saying, “ It was over 
my shoe-tops in mud.” All I can say 
is, that if either the one statement or 
the other be correct, it is high time the 
road should be mended. 

“ He is a shrewd fellow ! as deep as 


a draw-well.” There is an old adage 
that truth lies at the bottom of a well : 
I am afraid that it is not at the bottom 
of this draw-well. 

“ We stood there for an hour ; my 
feet were as cold as ice.” If the feet 
were once as cold as ice, there would 
be very little heat left in the head or 
the heart. 

“ Oh, nothing will hurt him ; he is 
as strong as a horse.” Some go even 
farther than this, and say, “as strong 
as an elephant;” but both expressions 
are too strong to be consistent with 
fact. 

“It must have been a fine sight; I 
would have given the world to have 
seen it.” Fond as most of us are of 
sight-seeing, this would be buying plea- 
sure at a dear price indeed ; but it is 
an easy thing to proffer to part with 
that which we do not possess. 

“ It made me quite low-spirited ; my 
heart felt as heavy as lead.” We most 
of us know what a heavy heart is ; but 
lead is by no means the most correct 
metaphor to use in speaking of a heavy 
heart. 

“ I could hardly find my way ; for 
the night was as dark as pitch.'” I am 
afraid we have all in our turn calumni- 
ated the sky in this manner; pitch is 
many shades darker than the darkest 
night we have ever known. 

“ He ran till his face burnt like a fire- 
coal.” Ay, and if every one blushed 
in the same proportion in which he 
departed from truth, he who uses this 
form of speech would have a face rue- 
fully red, though not exactly burning 
like a fire-coal. 

“I have told him of that fault fifty 
times over.” Five times would, in all 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


109 


probability, be much nearer the fact 
than fifty. 

“I never closed my eyes all night 
long.” If this be true, you acted un- 
wisely ; for had you closed your eyes, 
you might, perhaps, have fallen asleep, 
and enjoyed the blessing of refreshing 
slumber; if it be not true, you act 
more unwisely still, by stating that as 
a fact which is altogether untrue. 

“ He was in such a passion, that he 
foamed at the mouth like a mad dog.” 
Rather mad language this; but many 
a man in his descriptions acts like a 
bad painter, who, almost always, has too 
much color in his brush. 

“He is as tall as a church spire.” 
I have met with some tall fellows in my 
time, though the spire of a church is 
somewhat taller than the tallest of them. 

“You may buy a fish at the market 
as big as a jackass, for five shillings.” 
I certainly have my doubts about this 
matter ; but if it be really true, the 
market people must be jackasses indeed 
to sell such large fishes for so little 
money. 

“ He was so fat he could hardly come 
in at the door.” Most likely the 
difficulty here alluded to was never 
felt by any one but the relater ; sup- 
posing it to be otherwise, the man must 
have been very broad, or the door very 
narrow. / 

“You don’t say so! — why it was 
enough to kill him !” The fact that it 
. did not kill him is a sufficient reply to 
this unfounded observation ; but no re- 
mark can be too absurd for an unbridled 
tongue. 

Thus might I run on for an hour, 
and, after all, leave much unsaid on 
the subject of exaggerated expressions. 


We are hearing continually the corn- 
comparisons, “black as soot, white as 
snow, hot as fire, cold as ice, sharp as a 
needle, dull as a door-nail, light as- a 
feather, heavy as lead, stiff as a poker, 
and crooked as a crab-tree,” in cases 
where such expressions are quite out 
of order. 

The practice of expressing ourselves 
in this inflated and thoughtless way is 
more mischievous than we are aware 
of. It certainly leads us to sacrifice 
truth ; to misrepresent what we mean 
faithfully to describe ; to whiten our own 
characters, and sometimes to blacken 
the reputation of a neighbor. There is 
an uprightness in speech as well as in 
action, that we ought to strive hard to 
attain. The purity of truth is sullied, 
and the standard of integrity is lowered, 
by incorrect observations. Let us re- 
flect upon this matter freely and faith- 
fully. Let us love truth, follow truth, 
and practice truth in our thoughts, our 
words, and our deeds . — Pithy Papers by 
Old Humphrey . 


Philosophical. 

t N reference to the almost universal 
custom among all classes, of show- 
ing respect to those who are gen- 
teely dressed, a poor man once 
remarked, “ When a stranger treats me 
with want of respect, I comfort myself 
with the reflection that it is not myself 
that he slights, but my old and shabby 
coat and hat, which, to say the truth, 
have no particular claim to adoration. 
So if my hat and coat choose to fret 
about it, let them ; but it is nothing to 
me.” 


110 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



The Family at Prayer. 


BY REV. FRANCIS C. -WOODWORTH. 

The hour is come — the sacred hour of prayer, 
And humbly round that cherished altar now, 

A happy family converse with Heaven. 

’Tis no unwelcome task. This holy hour 
These worshipers e’er hail with fond delight. 
That precious volume, they have learned to 
prize 

Above all other books, lies open there, 

And from the page reflecting heavenly light, 
The godly father now devoutly reads. 

Sweet are the oracles of sacred truth, 

To him who loves the audience hall of God. 
Now from this Bethel swells the song of praise, 
And in that hallowed melody, each voice 
Accordant blends. 

The music ceases now, 
And low before the mercy-seat they kneel, 
And upward raise their hearts in fervent prayer. 
The warm emotions of the father’s heart, 

From its deep founts, burst forth, as he com- 
mends 

His cherished offspring to the sinner’s Friend, 
And for his household intercedes with heaven. 
His bosom glows with pure devotion’s flame — 
A flame enkindled by a Savior’s love. 

He lifts the veil that hides eternal things ; 

He sees a Mediator on his throne — 

Jesus ! the name is precious to his soul, 

And all his hopes around the Cross entwine. 
The hand of that disciple grasps a key, 

By heaven bestowed, a key that shall unlock 
The treasure-house of God. 

Lives there a man 
Who cannot love this consecrated place — 

The altar where a godly household meet ? 


Thence is sweet incense wafted to the skies ; 
On it, secure, a ladder rests, whose top 
Reaches the shining battlement of heaven ; 
There, with Jehovah’s choicest gifts to men, 
Angels to earth descend. A Power unseen 
Illumines with his gracious smiles the place— 
’Tis holy ground — a paradise below — 

A green oasis in this wilderness — 

The vestibule of heaven. 


The Flower Pots. 



BY REV. JOSEPH ALDEN, 13. D. 

mi/9 iLLiAM, will you go to the store, 
MS and get me a couple of flower- 
pots ? 

“ Yes ma’am,” said William 
very cheerfully. 

“ I don’t want them just now, but I 
shall before long.” 

“Well, ma’am, I will get them for 
you.” 

“ I wish for two of the medium size. 
Say so to Mr. Janeway, and he will 
know what ones to let you have.” 
This request was made by a widow, to 
William, who lived in the adjoining 
house. She had not lived there but a 
short time. She had got partially 
acquainted with William, and thought 
he was a very fine boy. He was so 
neat in his person, so polite and correct 
in his deportment, that she thought she 
should like him for a neighbor very 
much. “ What a very obliging boy 
William is,” said she to a neighbor 
who had called to see her. 

“ I don’t know him, but I have heard 
a great deal of him as a good boy,” 
replied the visitor. William was busy 
erecting a play-house for his sister. 
When Mrs. Walter saw that he had 
completed it, she stepped out and said 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Ill 


to him, “If you are at leisure now, I 
Should like to have the flower-pots in a 
few minutes.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I am at leisure. I 
have sister’s house all done ; . I’ll get 
them for you in a few minutes. If you 
have time, I should like to have you 
step to the fence and see it.” 

Mrs. Walter stepped to the fence 
which separated her premises from 
those of William’s father, and looked 
at the house which was built against 
the fence. 

“ What do you think of it, ma’am ?” 

u I think it is a very nice play-house 
indeed.” 

William was pleased to hear his 
work commended, as boys are wont to 
be. The fact that she gave him praise 
did not render him less disposed to 
oblige her in the matter of the flower- 
pots. 

When she went into the house, he 
turned and went in also, and she sup- 
posed he was then going to get the 
articles she desired. She did not think 
it would be polite to remind him of it 
again. As soon as he got into the 
house, his sister asked him to make her 
a wooden knife. 

“I have just finished your house, 
and that is about as much as I can 
afford to do for you in one half day ; 
and besides I have to go right away to 
the store, and get something for Mrs. 
Walter.” 

So saying, he passed along, and was 
going out at the front door, when he 
found the newspaper, which had been 
left by the carrier, on the door-step. 
He took it up and opened it, and thought 
he would see what the news was. He 
thought he should have time enough to 


do so, and yet get the pots by the time 
Mrs. Walter would want them. True, 
she said she would want them in a few 
minutes, and a few minutes was not 
immediately. So he sat down on the 
door-step, and got interested in a pretty 
story contained in the paper, and forgot 
all about his promise to Mrs. Walter. 
She, in the mean time, had taken up 
her plants, and stood waiting for the pots 
to put them in, expecting he would 
come with them every moment. She 
waited, and waited, till her patience 
was weary, when she left her plants 
and went to the front door, to see if 
William was not coming. She saw 
him on the steps reading. Perhaps she 
felt a little vexed that he had so little 
regard to his promise, especially since 
it put her to so much inconvenience, for 
she had a great deal to do that day. 
She, however, said nothing to him, but 
went and placed her plants in the earth, 
and employed herself in something else. 

When William had finished the story, 
he thought of his promise. “ I guess I 
have been but a few moments reading 
it,” said he to himself. He ran to the 
store and got the pots, and brought them 
to Mrs. Walter. He saw that she didn’t 
look quite so pleasantly as she did in 
the morning. She thanked him with 
cold civility, and offered to pay him. 
He felt hurt at her manner, and at her 
offering to pay him. He said nothing, 
but thought it all over, and saw that he 
had been to blame, and rightly conclu- 
ded that Mrs. Walter had seen him 
reading on the door-step. 

After all, perhaps, some one will say, 
it was a small matter to make a fuss 
about. We might say so properly 
enough, if it was a single instance. 


112 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


But the truth was, William was in the 
habit of acting just in that way. He 
was seldom ready to do a thing at once. 
He must put it off for a little while, and 
the consequence was, that he put off 
some things for a great while, and some 
things forever. While he had many* 
amiable qualities, yet no one could have 
any confidence that what he promised 
to do could be done in time, and even 
done at all. In consequence, he had 
fewer friends and was far less respected 
than if he had not formed the evil habit 
of procrastination. — Youth’s Companion. 


Grammatical lessons for Children. 

Veni, vidi, vici — “ I came, I saw, I conquered.” 
jggpkHESE remarkable words were em- 
ployed by Julius Caesar, the ce- 
ll lebrated Roman general, in de- 
scribing one of his brilliant vic- 
tories. I have selected them here, in 
order to illustrate several important 
principles in language. 

The whole is a compound sentence, 
made up of three simple sentences. 

The first thing to be noticed, is the 
entire absence of any connective. The 
copulative conjunction is omitted, in 
order to give celerity to the actions 
described. It is the figure of rhetoric, 
called asyndeton , from Greek asyndetos, 
“unconnected.” It is a fine example 
of this figure. For a similar example, 
compare Ex. xv. 9. 

The next thing observable is the 
alliteration, which consists in beginning 
several connected words with the same 
sound. There is a disposition in most 
nations to be pleased with alliteration, 
as well as with rhyme. It is founded 


on the great law of attraction, assimila- 
tion, or elective affinity, which exerts db 
powerful an influence on the forms and 
combinations of language generally. 
This alliteration is lost of course in 
the translation. 

Another thing to be observed is the 
similarity of form which these words 
present. Every word which is not 
compounded, and which denotes a con- 
ception, is made up of two parts — the 
root and the form of the word. If we 
employ mathematical language, and re- 
gard the word as a function, then the 
root here is an independent variable , 
and the form of the word is a constant. 

The root of veni is Yven, “coming.” 

The root of vidi is Yvid, “ seeing,” 
a root common to most of the Indo-Eu- 
ropean languages. 

The root of vici is Yvtc, “conquer- 
ing.” 

The form of these several words con- 
sists (1) in lengthening the radical vow- 
el ; and (2) in adding the termination i; 
as — 

Y^en, veni; 

Yvid, vidi ; 

Yvic, vici. 

Further, each of these verbs forms a 
simple sentence by itself; the subject 
of the sentence, or proposition, being 
involved or implied in the termination 
of the verb. No other part of speech 
alone can form a sentence, or proposi- 
tion. This shows the superiority of the 
verb or predicate to the noun or subject 
in forming the proposition. 

The force and beauty of Caesar’s 
words are greatly weakened in En- 
glish, where the person has to be ex- 
pressed separately, “ I came, I saw, I 
conquered.” j. w. g. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


113 



The Quarrelsome Children. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 


UCY and Robert, a brother and 
ffl sister, used very often to quarrel. 
Mjl It was a very foolish and a very 
< *** as ® wicked habit. There was no 
necessity for it. The little disputes 
and contentions which occurred almost 
every day, might very easily have been 
avoided, if the children had only done 
as their mother instructed them to do. 
Mrs. Mason, their mother, was a pious 
woman. She loved God, and Christ, 
and the Bible; and it grieved her a 
good deal to see her children show so 
little forbearance toward each other. 

Robert was the younger of the two 
children. I hardly know which was 


more in fault. Perhaps they were 
equally to blame. But however that 
may be, there was some jar between 
them nearly every day ; and sometimes, 
when they did not go to school, several 
times in a day. They could hardly 
ever agree more than an hour or two at 
a time. Sometimes Lucy would acci- 
dentally knock down her brother’s play- 
house, very nicely built up with cobs or 
books. Then there would be a terrible 
tempest. Robert did not wait to ascer- 
tain whether his sister meant to do it or 
not ; but he flew into a passion at once, 
and said some unkind words to Lucy. 
This, of course, drew some harsh words 


114 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


from her in reply, and so they would 
answer back and forth, without stopping 
a moment to see if they could not settle 
the difficulty. The matter was all the 
time growing worse and worse. It is 
strange that they could not have seen 
this. 

Sometimes Robert would tease his 
sister on purpose, and she would get 
angry. Once in a while, he would do 
something by accident which displeased 
her, and then there would be a pretty 
heavy sea of anger on both sides before 
they got through with the difficulty. 
There were a good many very boister- 
ous times. It took a great while to 
bring about a calm in the angry waters, 
and when, at length, it became a little 
tranquil, it seemed as if it was because 
the elements were tired out and stopped 
to rest. 

One day — it was in the winter ; 
there was a furious snow-storm raging 
without, so that Mrs. Mason said the 
children need not go to school— one 
wintry day, little Lucy and her brother 
were just as busy as they could be in 
the parlor with their playthings. They 
had them all out. Lucy had her doll, 
her cradle, and her little china tea-cups 
and saucers, and I know not what 
beside. Robert had his earthen dog, 
his wagon, and his whip. It was a 
merry time in that parlor ; and things 
went on pleasantly for a while. 

By and by, however, Robert in run- 
ning about the room with his whip, 
came in contact with the chair, on 
which Lucy had her doll in the cradle. 
The doll was fast asleep, of course, and 
it was a great pity to wake her. But 
the chair tumbled over, and over went 
both dffi and cradle, the doll in one 


direction, and the cradle in another, as 
you see in the picture. 

Now, Robert did not mean to do this. 
He was careless, to be sure ; but he 
upset the chair by accident. Still 
Lucy did not stop to think how it was 
done. She ran after her brother, in a 
passion, and struck him a cruel blow on 
the head. Robert cried very loudly, 
of course. 

This was the last time, however, that 
these children ever quarreled. Shall 1 
tell you how they were cured of this 
bad trait of character ? Their mother, 
Mrs. Mason, as I said before, was a 
good woman, and it grieved her very 
much to see her children so unkind to 
each other. She was sitting near the 
fire, sewing, when slip saw Lucy strike 
her brother. She felt very sad indeed. 
She had often seen the two quarreling, 
but this was the first time she had seen 
either of them give the other a blow. 

“ Oh,” said she, “ my dear children, 
has it come to this ?” and she burst into 
tears, and wept for some time. 

The children stopped quarreling in a 
moment, when they saw their mother 
weeping. This was the first time they 
had ever seen her shed tears, and they 
could not help thinking that she wept 
on account of their bad behavior. They 
felt as if an arrow had pierced their 
hearts; and they ran to their mother, 
threw their arms around her neck, and 
said, “ Dear mother, don’t cry ; we will 
never do so again.” 

The mother embraced them tenderly, 
and said, “ My dearest children, I for- 
give you. I love you more than I can 
tell. You know I love you fondly. 
But I would rather see you both lying 
cold and pale in the coffin, than to have 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


115 


you grow up with this spirit of anger 
and ill-will toward each other.” 

That quarrel about the playthings 
was the last. A good many times after 
that, there was a difference of opinion 
between them ; but, whenever they felt 
that quarrelsome spirit rising in their 
breasts, they remembered their mother’s 
tears, and that checked them instantly. 
So, after a while, they formed the habit 
of forbearing with each other, and they 
found it quite an easy thing to live 
without quarreling. 

Little children, it may be that this 
story contains a thought or two, which 
it would be well for you to consider. 
What do you think about it ? You 
can tell whether you ever quarrel with 
your brother or sister a great deal 
better than your friend Theodore can. 


Life in Prairieland. 

tjcy&jl r. Editor, — Some months since, 
the Man with the Magnet — the 
Mill gentleman, I suppose, who ap- 
p e a rs s0 earnestly engaged in 
teaching that little group represented on 
the title-page of the Cabinet — expressed 
a wish in his table-talk, that some one 
of his readers, familiar with the western 
country, should contribute an article 
giving some description of the prairies. 
I have taken the hint, sir, and send you 
a few thoughts, under the caption which 
you suggested, of “Life in Prairieland,” 
from the far-off country of Iowa. 

It is generally supposed that the vast 
plains called prairies were once covered 
with timber, and that the constant en- 
croachments of fire at last extinguished 
every vestige of its former grandeur. 


Ages after ages have undoubtedly pass- 
ed, since the work of desolation was ac- 
complished. Recent discoveries, how- 
ever, establish the fact beyond the sha- 
dow of a doubt, that these beautiful 
plains were once inhabited by a race of 
people versed in the mechanical arts 
and science. Some iron wedges were 
lately found in a stone quarry, not far 
from where I live. They were some 
distance from the outside of the ledge, 
and nearly destroyed by rust ; showing 
that thousands of years have passed 
since they were left in the quarry, by 
men employed in procuring stone for 
building purposes. A stone wall was 
also recently found about thirty miles 
from this place, about two feet below 
the surface, having the appearance of a 
foundation of a building, twenty feet 
square, with a partition-wall passing 
through the centre. Some parts of this 
wall were somewhat demolished, al- 
though the most of it was entire, having 
the appearance of mechanical order in 
every part of its construction. When 
and by whom these specimens of an- 
cient mechanism were constructed, I 
will leave for others to conjecture. 

The unsurpassed fertility of the soil 
has induced immigrants from the east 
and the south, to settle these verdant 
plains, so that in a few years this prai- 
rieland will have the appearance of an 
old and highly cultivated country. The 
inducements held out to the farming 
part of community to settle here are 
many and very great. 

The first thing to be done on arriving 
here, is to select a tract of rich prairie, 
situated near a grove of timber. The 
next is to erect a cabin. Then the set 
tier is ready to commence farming 


116 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


He now commences ploughing. The 
work is done with a large plough, the 
share of which lies nearly flat, turning 
a furrow of from eighteen" to twenty- 
four inches in width, and two inches 
thick. This plough is drawn by four or 
five yoke of oxen. Upon land thus 
prepared, corn is frequently planted; 
and without any more trouble, except 
harvesting, makes excellent fodder, and 
frequently yields twenty or thirty bush- 
els of good corn per acre. 

No work can be more pleasant than 
ploughing in one of our prairie fields. 
Without a stump, stone, or any thing to 
intercept our course, we can strike a 
furrow half a mile in length ; and away 
we go, with joyous heart, rolling over 
the black soil, expecting soon to see our 
labor richly repaid in the golden har- 
vest of summer and autumn. 

I must tell you something about sow- 
ing grain in these large fields. The 
greater part of this work is done in the 
same manner as in the eastern States. 
But I saw a sight one day, in the way 
of sowing grain, which I think would 
have been regarded as rather novel at 
the east. A man having uncoupled his 
wagon, and placed some boards on the 
axletree and lower end of the shaft — or 
tongue, as we call it — for a platform to 
hold his grain and himself, was sowing 
grain at a great rate, while a boy drove 
the team. A large harrow was fasten- 
ed behind the cart, covering the seed as 
it was scattered. This I thought, as 
we say here at the west, was doing 
business with “ a big auger.” 

No country in the world can equal in 
beauty a prairie landscape. It is indeed 
the garden of nature, clothed in all the 
beauty and grandeur art could paint or 


fancy dictate. A view of one of these 
prairies, from some eminence, is worth 
going a thousand miles to enjoy. As 
we climb some knoll, we behold a plain, 
vast in extent, clothed in a dress of ex 
uberant vegetation, bespangled with an 
innumerable variety of flowers, perfu- 
ming the air with their fragrance. 
Skirting this immense plain is a large 
body of timber, near which the farms 
are situated. In another direction, a 
lone tree may be seen, standing as a 
waymark to guide the weary traveler 
across, perhaps, a trackless plain. But 
autumn will soon come ; then the un- 
occupied parts of these plains will be 
shorn of their beauty by the devouring 
flames. E. p. s. 

Mount Pleasant, Iowa, March, 1847 


Anecdote of a Snow Bird. 

t E -did not know until the othei 
day, that the little chiek-a-de-de, 
whose song we have tried to 
translate, was such an affection- 
ate creature. There is a little book, 
published in England, called “Early 
Days,” which tells a story about a pair 
of these birds ; and since reading the 
story we have loved this winter warbler 
more than ever, as we are sure, our 
readers will do, when they are made 
acquainted with the story which we 
intend to tell them. This little bird, it 
seems, is known in Ireland by the name 
of blue-bonnet. Its food consists of 
grain and insects, especially the latter, 
in search of which it may be seen 
hopping from branch to branch, in 
every position, sometimes with its head 
downward. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


117 


On a cold day, in the month of 
March last — so says the book before 
mentioned — one of these birds hopped 
into the house of a friend of mine, near 
Belfast, and commenced picking crumbs 
about the floor and tables, when, after 
remaining for several hours, it took its 
leave. Next day it returned, and alighted 
on the top of a cage, where it seemed to 
form an acquaintance with a goldfinch. 
The cage door was opened, and the 
blue-bonnet went in, and remained all 
day picking seeds with the goldfinch. 
At night the strange prisoner was re- 
leased ; but as it showed no disposition 
to leave the house, it was allowed to 
remain in the parlor. But the next 
morning, while the servant w ; as opening 
the window-shutter, the room being 
quite dark, she unconsciously set her 
foot on the poor bird, and killed it. 
It was afterwards thrown out, and its 
untimely death soon forgotten. 

But during the course of the day, 
the attention of some one was drawn to 
an affecting scene outside, before the 
parlor windows. The mate of the blue- 
bonnet was standing beside it, mourning 
its loss in plaintive tones. It then 
stretched out its neck, and putting its 
beak below the head of its companion, 
raised it up, and then sang as before. 
Afterward it attempted to remove the 
body, but was unable. At length it 
flew away, and after some time return- 
ed, carrying a grain of corn, which it 
dropped before its dead partner. Then 
it fluttered with its wings, making an 
effort to be joyful, and endeavored to 
call the attention of the dead bird to the 
corn. Finding this useless also, it 
again flew away, and returned with 
another grain, which it deposited in the 


same manner. It then lifted the grain, 
and dropped it upon its mate’s beak, 
continuing to do this for several minutes. 
Then it resumed its plaintive notes; 
but the sight was too affecting, and a 
person was sent out to remove the dead 
bird. 

“At that moment,” said a specta- 
tor, “ I would have given any thing in 
my possession to have seen the poor 
blue-bonnet restored to life.” 


Fable of the Wave and Sea-shell. 

S T is related that the Sea-shell was 
the favorite daughter of the Wave, 
and that he watched over her with 
love, shielding her from injury, 
and folded her in his bosom, and cher- 
ished her as his best beloved, ever 
whispering the music of affection in her 
ear. Now the Sea-shell loved the 
noble Rock upon the shore; but the 
Wave and the Rock were enemies, 
battling with each other ; so that when 
the haughty Wave found out the love 
of his rosy-lipped child, he spoke in a 
voice of rage to her thus: — “If thou 
sighest to wed with yonder Rock, I will 
cast thee from my bosom, and turn from 
thee. Go where thou wilt, my anger 
shall haunt thee, and ever ring in thy 
ear.” But the Shell loved on, and the 
swelling Wave dashed her from him. 
And though the steadfast Rock cherished 
his ocean bride with every kindness, and 
kept her always by his side, still the 
Shell pined in sorrow ; for, as her 
white-headed sire had said, the anger 
of the Wave kept ever haunting her, and 
ringing in her ear . — The Good Genius , 
that turned every thing into Gold. 


118 


THE SOUTH’S CABINET. 



The Convention of Animals. 


f E present our little readers in the 
above cut, with something that 
bears the appearance of a con- 
vention of animals. You see 
on one side a fierce and bold lion, and 
a crouching but desperate tiger; and 
on the other the stately elephant, sur- 
rounded by a numerous species of 
inferior animals, who seem to do ho- 
mage to him as their lord and protector. 
There is an air of interest on the coun- 
tenances of the whole herd, the occa- 
sion of which fable has related as fol- 
lows : 

An elephant, that was accustomed to 
feed in a certain jungle, had become so 
familiar with numerous small animals, 
that they conceived a friendship for his 
noble person, and sought protection by 
his side from the beasts of prey that 


seemed ready often to devour them. 
One day a lion and a tiger coming out 
of the forest, had their indignation 
raised to madness, to see the elephant 
surrounded by his mixed family, and 
seemingly so much the object of affec- 
tion with all. 

“ These cravens surely deserve to be 
eaten,” said the lion to the tiger, “ for 
shunning us, the most powerful of 
beasts, and doing homage to the ele- 
phant, who can boast neither of royal 
blood, or any legitimate right of autho- 
rity” — to which the tiger responded 
with a most desperate howl, as if his 
prey was already in his power. 

The elephant, being startled, recalled 
the conversation which he had over- 
heard, and while looking the lion in the 
face, thus replied : “ The king of beasts 


THE SOUTH’S CABINET. 


119 


has lost his dignity, when he seeks to 
compel homage through fear. My 
friends here confided in me, well know- 
ing that I can have no interest in injur- 
ing them ; and they love me, because 
they feel that they have no proper claim 
to the protection which I afford them. 
Your visit has taught them these les- 
sons, the truth of which they will de- 
monstrate in their future attachment to 
me : That a free government has no 
need of coercion and fear, to attach any 
body but atrocious criminals to its in- 
terests ; while these are the only known 
principles with tyrants and despots. 
By your choosing the tiger as the com- 
panion of your bloody purposes, you 
show us that the dignity of royalty is 
not above employing any instrumentali- 
ties that may suit its ends — that when 
prey or plunder are the purpQses of 
governments, a common interest unites 
nations dissimilar in character and posi- 
tion, who, when the booty is disposed of, 
will set to and devour each other.” s. 


Conversations on Electricity.* 

BY JOHN B. NEWMAN, M. D. 

t cAN see the reason now, why mag- 
netism is considered nothing more 
than the passage of electricity 
through metal ; and why on ac- 
count of the immense quantity in a free 
state in the polar regions, the needle 
should point in that direction. 

E. Electricity is a powerful agent in 
purifying the air ; it is set free in great 
quantities wherever putrefaction is ta- 
king place, and combines in the air, but 


cannot exceed a certain amount, and 
must diffuse itself anew over all; so 
that we find in swamps, or where there 
are any great masses of decaying vegeta- 
tion, which would poison the country with 
noxious miasmas, thunder storms take 
place almost every day, and the air is 
thus made fit, by continual purification, 
for the respiration of man and animals. 

C. The last time we were on chem- 
istry, you said the combinations of bo- 
dies were owing to electrical action. I 
saw an experiment to illustrate it since, 
where an acid and an alkali were pre- 
vented from unity by this means. I 
was much pleased to see a galvanic 
apparatus attached to some plants in 
the fair ; it seemed as if the time would 
soon come, when we could raise as 
many crops a year as we could wish. 

E. Do you remember how the French 
gluttons increase the weight and size of 
the livers of geese ? 

C. By keeping the goose in a hot 
place, without the power of exercise, 
and with a great quantity of food near 
it. After a while the goose becomes 
diseased, and his liver increases to an 
enormous extent. It would be the last 
thing that I should want to eat, however. 

E. The fruit produced by galvanic 
action on the plant stands in precisely 
the same relation as the diseased goose- 
livers. Electricity answers very well 
when used by nature in the polar 
regions ; but man, when, from the mere 
love of novelty, without any necessity, 
he tries to imitate nature, always makes 
bad work of it. Such inventions, in 
their proper application very useful to 
man, are here positively injurious. 

C. Mr. Godfrey considers electricity 
to be the cause of life, and says that by 

i 


Concluded from page 83. 

4 * 


/ 


120 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


means of the galvanic battery they are 
creating animals in Germany. He 
thinks man is nothing more than a 
compound electrical machine ; and that 
we like and dislike people according as 
their positive or negative states are in 
accordance with our own. 

E. If that were the cause, every 
man possessed of a battery would have 
the power, not only of preventing death, 
but of restoring those that are in the 
tomb to life. 

C. But how is it, then, that the great 
physiologists he names were able to 
make insects out of stone ? He has well- 
attested accounts of the complete success 
of such experiments. 

E. Had you read on a little farther, 
you would have found that when the 
infusions were boiled, and the air ex- 
cluded, no animalcule were produced ; 
and that the process of generation was 
also stopped by covering the surface 
with oil, and thus preventing the ingress 
of ova from the air. What is still more 
remarkable, every one of these ex- 
perimenters will tell you that animals 
cannot subsist on any thing else than 
organic matter, and yet most incon- 
sistently say that they can be entirely 
formed from stone. 

C. There was an account in' the 
daily papers, some time since, of a 
German chemist who had formed a 
curious and strange bird, of a different 
species from any now existing, and the 
wonderful creation of which alarmed 
all who saw it. 

E. You may be sure it was an 
imposition. There is little sense in 
those men, who, disregarding the fact 
that the air is full of ova, which are 
-continually falling in all places, the 


least excitement causing them to spring 
into active being, will give all the 
credit to electricity. Should they direct 
their microscopes to any thing else, they 
will find pretty much the same events 
taking place. As might be expected, 
they are generally infidels ; assuming 
Almighty power they pretend to take 
the dust of the earth and transmute it 
into flesh and blood. Yain-glorious 
teachers — 

“ Attempt ye still to rise 
By mountains heaped on mountains to the skies? 
Heaven still wonder, the vain toil surveys, 

And buries mortals in the heaps they raise.” 


My Sister. 

Sister thy labors are o’er ; 

Thou hast triumph’d at last, and thy sufferings 
cease : 

Thy covenant angel hath whispered sweet 
peace ; 

Thou wilt sin, thou wilt languish no more. 

Sister ! thy spirit has fled : 

Toyonder bright clime thou hast winged thy 
way, 

To the home of the blest, the bright mansion 
of day; 

Thy frail body now sleeps with the dead. 

Shall we plant the dark cypress for thee ? 
Ah no ! — bid rather the myrtle to bloom, 

As an emblem of joy ; thou survivest the tomb, 

And from sorrow and pain thou art free. 

Then away to the land of the blest 
For the cherubim’s song is the music above, 
And the white-winged seraph’s sweet glances 
of love 

Drive every ill from the breast. 

Oh, who would wish longer to stay, 

When faith, so triumphant, buoys upward the 
soul, 

And the bright star of hope points direct to 
the pole. 

Where God is the centre of day ! m 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


121 


The Plea of the Fallen. 

WRITTEN FOR MUSIC, BY REQUEST OF THE FEMALE MORAL REFORM SOCIETY. 
BY REV. FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 


FIRST VOICE. 

3 . I hear a plaint of grief and wo ; 

O listen to that cry ! 

’Tis Virtue’s wail — for Virtue’s foe 
Hath laid his bleeding victim low, 

To weep, and faint, and die. 

SECOND VOICE. 

2. Alas ! there is nor will nor power 

To sooth her spirit’s pain ; 

If Virtue fall, like some fair flower, 
Crush’d when the angry tempests lower, 
She ne’er can rise again. 

SEMI-CHORDS. 

3. Not so ! Shall we her wrongs be told, 

And our support deny ? 

Not so ! As we her grief behold, 

We count it richer, far, than gold, 

To point her to the sky. 


chorus. 

4. What though the task with shame be 

rife, 

We can endure it all ; 

And we will arm us for the strife, 

Nor yield, until we yield our life 
At our great Leader’s call. 

5. We come in our dear Master’s name, 

To strive for purity ; — 

The shame ! we glory in the shame ; 
With Israel’s God we rest our fame, 
And firm our trust shall be. 

6. And now, O God of holiness ! 

Regard our humble prayer ; 

Thy cause maintain — our labors bless ; 
And while our lips thy love profess, 
Teach us thy cross to bear. 


The Way to be Happy. 

& story is told of two travelers in 
Lapland, which throws more 
light on the art of being happy 
than a whole volume of precepts 
and aphorisms. Upon a very cold day 
in the winter they were driving along 
in a sledge, wrapped up in furs from 
head to foot. Even their faces were 
mostly covered ; and you could see 
hardly any thing but their eyebrows; 
and these were white and glistening 
with frost. At length they saw a poor 
man who had sunk down, benumbed 
and frozen, in the snow. “We must 
slop and help him,” said one of the 
travelers. “Stop and help him!” re- 


plied the other ; “ you will never think 
of stopping on such a day as this ! We 
are half frozen ourselves, and ought to 
be at our journey’s end as soon as 
possible.” “But I cannot leave this 
man to perish,” rejoined the more 
humane traveler; “I must go to his 
relief;” and he stopped his sledge. 
“Come,” said he, “come, help me to 
rouse him.” “Not I,” replied the 
other, “ I have too much regard for my 
own life to expose myself to this freez- 
ing atmosphere more than is necessary. 
I will sit here, and keep myself as 
warm as I can, till you come back.” 
So saying, he resolutely kept his seat, 
while his companion hastened to tho 
relief of the perishing man, whom they 


122 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


had so providentially discovered. The 
ordinary means for restoring conscious- 
ness and activity were tried with com- 
plete success. But the kind-hearted 
traveler was so intent upon saving the 
life of a fellow-creature, that he had 
forgotten his own exposure ; and what 
was the consequence ? Why, the very 
effort which he made to warm the 
stranger warmed himself! — and thus 
he ha»d a two-fold reward. He had the 
sweet consciousness of doing a benevo- 
lent act, and he also found himself 
glowing from head to foot by reason of 
the exertions which he had made. And 
how was it with his companion, who 
had been so much afraid of exposing 
himself? He was almost ready to 
freeze, notwithstanding the efforts he 
had been making to keep warm ! 

The lesson derived from this little 
incident is very obvious. We are all 
travelers to a distant country. At 
every step of our journey we find other 
travelers, who need our friendly aid. 
Nay, God has brought them around 
our path in great numbers ; and, far as 
the eye can reach, we see their dense 
and gloomy ranks. Now there are two 
ways of meeting these objects of Chris- 
tian sympathy and brotherly regard. 
We can go forward with the stern 
purpose of a selfish and unloving spirit, 
saying, in reply to every appeal which is 
addressed to our better feelings, “Depart 
in peace ; be ye warmed and filled 
or we can say, with the warm-hearted 
traveler, “I cannot see this man perish; 
I must hasten to his relief.” And the 
rule which we adopt for our guidance 
in such cases, will determine the ques- 
tion, whether we are to be happy or 
unhappy. The man who lives only for 


himself, cannot be happy. God does not 
smile upon himj and his conscience 
will give him no peace. But he who 
forgets himself in his desire to do good, 
not only becomes a blessing to others, 
but opens a perpetual fountain of joy in 
his own bosom . — Day spring. 


The Farmer and his Son, a Fable. , 

i yiNG at the point of death, a farmer, 
being desirous that his son should 
pursue the same occupation in 
which he had himself been en- 
gaged all his life, made use of this 
expedient to induce him to enter upon 
it with industry and perseverance. 
While the boy knelt at his father’s 
bedside, with his other children, the 
latter addressed him thus: — “All the 
patrimony, my son, which I have to 
leave you, is my farm and vineyard, of 
which I make you sole heir. But I 
charge you not to let it # go out of your 
own hands, for if I have any treasure 
beside, it is buried somewhere in the 
ground, within a foot of the surface.” 
This made the son conclude that he 
talked of money which he had hidden 
there ; so, after his father’s death, with 
unwearied diligence and application, he 
carefully dug up every inch both of the 
farm and the vineyard ; from which it 
came to pass, that though he found not 
the treasure which he expected, the 
ground, by being so well stirred and 
loosened, produced so plentiful a crop 
of all that was sown in it, as proved a 
real and no inconsiderable treasure. 
We see from this fable, little boys and 
girls, that industry is itself a treasure. — 
Selected. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


123 



The Clove Tree. 


S ere is a pictu * <*f the tree which 
bears the kind of spice called 
cloves. The plant is a native 
of the Molucca islands, but has 
been introduced into many other tro- 
pical or other countries. It is found 
now in Brazil. It is called in botany, 
the Caryophyttus Aromaticus. A tree, 
five years old, will yield from eight to 
twenty pounds of cloves in a year. 
The cloves, as they find their way into 
the market, are the flower buds of this 
plant, gathered before they open, and 
dried in the sun. The round ball which 
you have noticed at the end, is the 
corolla inclosing the stamens. The 


stem is the tube of the calyx, and is 
somewhat hollow on the living plant, 
though shriveled very much in its dried 
state. The. four teeth at the top, sur- 
rounding the ball, are divisions of the 
calyx. 

The name clove, given to the spice, 
is a corruption of the French word clou, 
which means a nail. The name was 
no doubt given on account of the re- 
semblance of the dried clove to a small 
nail. 


“ Love is like a diamond with flaws 
in it ; it is precious, but imperfect.” 


124 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


A Few Thoughts for little Folks. 

BY UNCLE HERBERT. 

ave you ever thought, little folks, 
SI what important parts you are 
M hereafter to act in the great 
** drama of life ? 

Have you ever once reflected that 
you are to fill the responsible places of 
the great and good men who are now 
busily engaged in the various depart- 
ments of noble effort, for promoting vir- 
tue and human happiness ? 

Soon your dear fathers and mothers, 
your beloved ministers and teachers, 
the physicians and lawyers, the legis- 
lators and civil magistrates of this 
great nation must die. 

Yes, the men of learning and genius, 
the presidents and professors in our col- 
leges, poets and philosophers, scholars 
afid statesmen, must vacate their places, 
and you are the candidates of fair pro- 
mise to fill them; and were Uncle 
Herbert permitted to look into futurity a 
little, and read the history of our coun- 
try for as many years to come, as he 
has been permitted, through a merciful 
Providence, already to see, who can tell 
how many of you, who are so much 
amused and instructed every month by 
perusing the “Youth’s Cabinet,” he 
would find intimately associated in 
name and personal effort with the great 
events and noble deeds which will sure- 
ly transpire ? 

The world is now before you, bright 
and beautiful. And I doubt not, that it 
often presents to your impatient and 
anxious minds a thousand charming 
prospects, and fond dreams of future 
happiness. Yes, this is indeed a beau- 


tiful world, and Uncle Herbert well 
knows, from his own experience, how 
many gay dreams and bright and flat- 
tering visions it is peculiarly calculated 
to inspire in the busy, scheming minds 
of young people ; and although he is 
well aware that most of you will be 
sadly cheated out of your anticipated 
pleasures when you come to the stern 
realities of maturer years, still he most 
ardently desires that for these pleasures 
of childish dreams and wayward fan- 
cies, the more rational enjoyments of 
cultivated and virtuous minds may be 
substituted. 

Permit me, then, my dear readers, to 
impress upon your minds the important 
fact, that life has great and noble pur- 
poses, a thousand ends worth living for — 
worth the mightiest efforts of immortal 
minds. As a generation, you are soon 
to receive an invaluable legacy, a lega- 
cy of incalculable responsibility, involv- 
ing to no small extent the interests and 
happiness of succeeding generations, of 
unborn millions ! You are to come in 
possession of a mental and moral power 
which has been accumulating for ages, 
and which, it is hoped, you will wield 
not only in promoting your own happi- 
ness, but the happiness and prosperity 
of your country, and the greatest good 
of your race. 

You, my little folks — I repeat it — 
you are in a few years to be candidates 
for the presidents of our country, to 
bear our eagle banner of victory, and 
transmit it to your successors 'with 
liberty, heaven’s best boon bestowed 
upon your forefathers. You are to be 
the governors of our states, the senators 
and legislators. From your ranks the 
national executive cabinet will be form- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


125 


ed, and consuls and ministers-plenipo- 
tentiary will be chosen. It will be for 
you to perform the responsible duties of 
judges and jurists, teachers and clergy- 
men. 

Yes ! you will construct and send 
out your noble ships and steam- vessels 
into every sea and ocean, planting the 
tree of liberty on distant shores, and 
sowing the seeds of independent thought 
and equal rights broad-cast over the 
world. Stretching out the arms of 
your civil power over the green earth, 
you shall inherit from sea to sea, and 
from ocean to ocean, with all the won- 
der-working powers and inventions of 
the present and past generations. Ca- 
nals and steamboats, railroads and light- 
ning-winged telegraphs, are to be under 
your control. The vast financial and 
commercial interests of this great and 
growing republic, with all its multi- 
.plicity of political, religious, and benev- 
olent institutions, are to be your inherit- 
ance ; yours to foster, direct, and pre- 
serve. 

Since, therefore, you are so soon to 
occupy such important stations in life, 
and assume responsibilities so vast and 
weighty, let me earnestly entreat you 
carefully to cultivate every faculty of 
your minds, and every ennobling qual- 
ity of your hearts, by which you may 
be enabled not only to perform life’s 
duties well, but secure your own per- 
sonal happiness in this world, and in 
the world to come. 

J ON3SVILI.K, N. Y., March, 1847. 


“ He is the most just man who does 
justice to himself without any one else 
to judge him.” 


Artesian Wells. 

t group of little boys and girls 
were seated around the fire, one 
cold winter night, listening to 
one of their number, who was 
reading aloud. In the book which en- 
gaged their attention, something was 
said, about an Artesian well situated in 
France. The book did not describe 
these wells, but merely alluded to the 
fact that there was one in this place. 
The little folks soon after met the 
“ Man with the Magnet,” and begged 
he would tell them something about the 
Artesian well. He did so ; and as his 
description may not be uninteresting to 
other children, we shall give it, as 
nearly as we can, in his own words. 

In many parts of the world, ana in 
some where wAter is very scarce near 
the surface, if a hole is bored very 
deep into the earth, water is found, 
which is acted upon by a powerful 
pressure from beneath, and forced all 
the way up to the surface, through a 
pipe which is placed in the hole. 
Sometimes, indeed, this force throws 
the water from thirty to fifty feet into 
the air. 

These wells derive their name from 
the district of Artois, or the ancient 
Artesium, where they are abundant. 
The quantity of water obtained in this 
way in Artois, is often sufficient to turn 
the wheels of the mills. 

At Tours, in Europe, the water from 
one of these wells rushes up with so 
much force, that a cannon-ball, placed 
in the pipe, is violently thrown up into 
the air. The water, coming from a 
great depth, as it does, is always warm- 
er than that obtained from common 


126 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


wells; “so that, in some places, it has 
been used to warm buildings. It is be- 
lieved by scientific men, that water 
may be made to flow in the deserts of 
Africa, by means of the Artesian well. 
What an illustration of the goodness of 
God there is in this thing. Some phi- 
losophers would tell us that this man- 
ner of obtaining water is accounted for 
by a natural law — the law of hydro- 
static pressure. Very well. But who 
made that law ? Who controls the 
operations of nature in such a way, 
that even the barren wilderness may 
yield the thirsty traveler refreshing 
springs of water ? 


The Emigrant’s Dog. 

BY ELIHU BURRITT. 

I T was a very sultry day, and I 
turned my horse a little out of the 
road to rest him a few minutes 
under the shade of a large elm. 
A wagon was standing a little on before 
me, loaded with all the heterogeneous 
inventory of a Yankee farmer’s kitchen, 
parlor, cupboard, cellar, and garret. 
There was the old bureau with its 
carved lion-feet carefully wrapt around 
with blankets, and occupying, par ex- 
cellence, the chiefest and safest place 
in the cart. Then there were those 
venerable high-backed chairs that re- 
flect so much credit on the taste and 
skill of the seventeenth century ; all 
occupying such places as would seem 
to intimate a covert and respectful 
reference to the eye of the spectator. 
Sundry barrels filled with minor matters 
of importance, made up the foundation 


of such a superstructure of beds, bed- 
steads, bedding, bags, brooms, boxes, 
benches, bowls, bread and bacon, as 
might have puzzled the patriarch to 
have adjusted properly within the ark. 
The whole was surmounted by an an- 
cient and ample cradle, which seemed 
to have done some service to several 
antecedent generations, and which was 
as cumbersome and capacious as a 
common-sized canoe. At the end of 
the cart was suspended the large brass 
kettle, which had assumed the capacity 
of a kind of sub-treasury, in which the 
proprietors deposited weekly their six 
days’ provisions. 

The first glance of my eye fell upon 
a group of four or five persons, beneath 
the shade of a large maple, whither 
they seemed to have resorted to partake 
of a slight repast, out of the heat of the 
sun. But an affecting incident had 
interrupted their peaceful entertainment, . 
and filled them all, from father to child, 
with emotions which, even at a con- 
siderable distance, I could plainly per- 
ceive on their faces. A man, apparently 
thirty-five, was standing a few yards 
from the rest, exerting himself at the 
top of his ingenuity, to coax an old 
emaciated dog to follow him. The poor 
dumb creature was lying motionless at 
the foot of the tree, with his head re- 
posing in the lap of a young girl of 
fifteen, who, with tears on her cheeks, 
was lavishing upon the poor brute 
all the caresses of that affection that 
was swelling up in her young heart. 
“ Tyg !” said the father, stepping up and 
patting him gently on the head, “here he 
is, Tyg! hereaway!” when he would 
run back a few rods, as if in actual 
pursuit of some wild animal. The girl, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


127 


al the same time, would lift up the 
creature’s head, and trying to open his 
eyes with her fingers, would point to 
some pretended game at a little distance, 
beseeching him half crying with, “ Do 
look, Tyg ! see ! see yonder, see the 
rabbit, Tyg !” Again the father would 
return, and taking out his handkerchief, 
constructed out of it and something else, 
a rude representation of a small animal ; 
this he would make to rustle along by 
the dying dog, while he tried to imitate 
the cry of some wild quadruped. 

But it was in vain. The old creature 
opened his eyes once, just as I came 
up ; he looked up wistfully into the 
girl’s face, whose tears were raining 
down upon his shaggy brow ; his eyes 
were glassy, but there was an expression 
of grateful recognition in them, as they 
rested a moment upon each member of 
the afflicted group. “Mother!” ex- 
claimed the girl to a woman with a 
child in her arms, who was looking on 
in pensive silence, “ mother, he is grow- 
ing stiff ; I can’t open his eyes.” The 
father putting up his handkerchief and 
bending over the dead brute, sighed in 
the tenderest accents of sorrow, “ Poor 
Tyg ! poor old faithful creature ! how 
can I leave you here behind !” The 
child, that could hardly speak plain, 
crept along up to the old dog, and put- 
ting its little bare arm under his neck, 
put a piece of hard gingerbread to his 
mouth, sobbing, “ Do eat that, old Ti !” 

When I told these people that I was 
a Connecticut man, and that my home 
was not far from their native town, they 
invited me urgently to pay them a visit 
on my return to that State, which I 
promised and afterward fulfilled. 

You remember, Lizzy, my ride over 


to the village of B , the second 

day after my return from the West. 
The object of that visit was to see those 
emigrants at their first and last home. 
Although a year and more had elapsed 
since the incident which resulted in 
our partial acquaintance, yet they re- 
cognized me as soon as I crossed their 
threshold, and gave me a most cordial 
welcome to their fireside. They told 
me the story of their sojourn in the 
western world ; what privations, hard- 
ships, sickness and death had visited 
them ; how two of their little ones had 
.fallen victims to the disease of the 
country ; how they had wasted away 
under the ague, and how they had 
buried them in one grave in the midst 
of the prairies. They told me of all 
the incidents of their homeward journey; 
and when they came to the one I have 
just described, Julia pointed me to the 
stuffed skin of old Tyg, that had died in 
her arms under the tree, where I had 
first met them . — Sparks from the Anvil . 


The Butterfly. 

? here are a great many species of 
the butterfly. Several years ago, 
a distinguished naturalist, who 
paid much attention to classifying 
insects, made upward of seven hundred 
different kinds. But there have been 
many discovered since. The wing of 
all butterflies is exceedingly beautiful 
when viewed with the naked eye, and it 
is still more interesting when we look 
at it through a microscope. It then 
appears studded with a variety of little . 
grains of different dimensions and forms, 
generally supported upon a footstalk. 


128 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


regularly laid upon the whole surface. 
Nothing can exceed the beautiful and 
regular arrangement of these little sub- 
stances, which thus serve to paint the 
butterfly’s wings, like the tiles of a 
house. Those of one rank are a little 
covered by those that follow : they are 
of many figures ; on one part of the 


wing may be seen a succession of oval 
studs; on another part, a cluster of 
studs ; each in the form of a heart. In 
one place they resemble a hand open, 
and in another they are long or trian- 
gular; while all are interspersed with 
taller studs, that grow between the rest, 
like mushrooms upon a stalk. 



VARIETIES OP THE BUTTERFLY. 


Every child that has sported in the 
open air among the beauties of country 
life, admires the butterfly. This little 
bright-winged fellow is always a favor- 
ite with the little folks. How many 
times have we tried our hand at catch- 
ing butterflies, in childhood. Indeed, 
this butterfly-hunting is not altogether 
a pastime of childhood. Life, with 
many, is only a chase after butterflies. 
Thousands are living with no higher 
object before them than just the plea- 


sure of this world. They are always 
reaching forward ,to some source ot 
happiness here, forgetting that they are 
only pilgrims in this world, and that 
they are to tarry here but for a night. 
They are every day chasing after de- 
light which they never attain. They 
are doing about the same thing that the 
child does, when he spends hour after 
hour in pursuing a gilded butterfly. 
O what folly it is, thus to waste the 
precious hours of life ! 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


129 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


® e should very much like to know 
who wrote the story that winds 
up with a dream about an ex- 
cursion into fairy land in Cleo- 
patra’s barge. The story shall appear 
in our May and June numbers, whether 
we have the author’s name or not, 
though we should much prefer to know 
whom to thank for the entertainment. 
Besides, we have our curiosity a little 
excited about the matter. Why should 
we not have a trifle, Miss Caroline — 
a thimble-full, or so — after hearing 
what you have chosen to divulge ? 
Pray enlighten the thick darkness of 
an editor’s mind. Do you remember 
the argument that Hamlet employed to 
persuade his father’s spirit to speak to 
him ? Do you call to mind the danger 
he dreaded in case the old gentleman 
refused? Well, then, pity our igno- 
rance, like a kind-hearted lady, as we 
cannot doubt you are, and gratify the 
curiosity you have excited. If you do 
not, you will be responsible for the 
consequences — depend upon it. 

A correspondent sends us some , of 
her original lines, with the following 
playful note: » 

“ Mr. Editor, — On reading your 
paragraph in the last Cabinet, in re- 
gard to Mrs. Sigourney, a young friend 
would test her editor’s patience and 
kindness, in favoring her with his 
opinion respecting these lines. I pre- 
sume you wijl think they will shed 
greater light by conflagration than 
publication. I would prefer, however, 
that they should not prove a torch to 


light that pernicious weed, as I am no 
friend to it. Yours, 

“ELLEN LOUISA.” 

Your poem, Miss Ellen, shall not 
share the ignoble fate to which you 
allude, for the best reason in the world, 
among others — that it will not be needed 
for that purpose. If you wish for our 
opinion in detail respecting the article, 
you will have to wait a while, as we 
have scarcely leisure now to examine it 
critically. We are prepared to say, in 
general, however, that while it has many 
good points about it, it is not quite good 
enough for our pages. If you desire it, 
we will, one of these days, publish it 
with a commentary, pointing out its 
faults. How would you like to be 
dissected in this style ? It may be of 
service to you, but the operation will 
be painful — there is no disputing that. 

We have received another response 
to our request for sketches of Life on 
the Prairie. A valued correspondent, 
residing some hundred miles inland 
from Fort Snelling, Iowa, has sent us a 
very graphic description of the* great 
prairie in that section of the country. 
Our readers have been entertained with 
this gentleman’s stories of western life 
before. We are indebted to him for the 
interesting accounts we have published 
of the Dakota Indians. He lives among 
these Indians, and is one of their mis- 
sionaries. Our young readers can find 
Fort Snelling on the map of North 
America, but they cannot find the place 
where the mission is situated. That is 
too small to be designated on the map. 


130 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


In our next number we intend to pub- 
lish this article ; and we take this op- 
portunity to tender to the writer our 
warmest thanks and our kindest wishes. 


A SERIOUS JOKE. 

Can there be such a thing ? Per- 
haps not, strictly speaking. We can- 
not think of a better caption, however, 
for a funny story which a friend of ours 
told us the other day — a story which is 
worth telling again. Our friend is a 
practical printer, now at the head of a 
large establishment in this city. When 
a mere boy, he was an apprentice in 
Albany. Now it may be set down as a 
sort of proverb, that boys and girls — the 
present company being excepted, of 
course — are fond of fun ; and that is 
well enough too, provided they keep 
their fun within proper bounds, so that 
neither they nor any body else are in- 
jured by it. Well, our friend the 
young printer loved a joke. Whether 
he always kept his joking propensities 
within proper bounds or not, may admit 
of a question. That he did not in the 
instance we are about to specify, was 
pretty clear in the judgment of one man 
at least. The story is this. 

The young printer was at work at 
his case one day. Do you know what 
a printer’s case is, reader 1 A printer’s 
case and a lawyer’s case are very dif- 
ferent things, and a doctor’s case is 
very different from either. So a gram- 
marian’s, case differs from all the rest. 
The piece of furniture which contains 
the separate cells for all the different 
types, is the printer’s case. As we 
said before, our young friend was at 
work one day at his case, when the 


foreman of the office placed in his hands 
the manuscript copy of a speech which 
had just been delivered at some public 
meeting in Albany, by a man not par- 
ticularly noted for his modesty. This 
piece of eloquence the young rogue was 
to put in type. 

He had hardly commenced the task, 
when the gentleman to whom the world 
was about to be indebted for this splen- 
did effort of genius and eloquence, made 
his appearance at the case. “ My little 
man,” said he, “that speech was re- 
ceived with great enthusiasm. It is not 
very correctly reported. The truth is, 
there was such a roar of applause from 
beginning to end, that I could hardly 
get on with rpy speech. Now what I 
want of you is — and I see you are just 
the little man for that thing — what I 
want of you is, to put in pretty freely as 
you go along such words as ‘ cheers,’ 
and ( applause.’ You know what I 
mean.” So saying, he suited the action 
to the word, and slipped into the hand 
of the printer a bright silver dollar, 
observing that as it would be some 
trouble to the lad, he ought to be well 
rewarded for it. 

The orator left the office — the speech 
was put in type, and the paper was dis- 
tributed about the city. But in less 
than half an hour after this last act in 
the drama, the aforesaid orator entered 
the office of the paper, in a perfect tem- 
pest of passion. It would seem that he 
came as near bursting with anger this 
time as he did a few nights before with 
eloquence. Some wag, who heard both 
speeches — the one in the printing-office, 
and the one in the city hall — declared 
that the former was a good deal more 
impassioned of the two. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


131 


If our readers have not already con- 
jectured what all this tornado was 
about, we will tell them. The clever 
little fellow, who was “just the man for 
that thing,” had obeyed his instructions 
literally. Printers have a by-word, 
“ Follow copy, if it leads you out of the 
window.” The little fellow did not see 
any reason why these verbal instruc- 
tions should not come under the same 
rule, the more especially as they were 
dictated by the man who made the 
speech, who ought to know best how it 
should appear in print, and who had 
moreover paid a very extravagant sum 
for having it printed correctly. 

We have not seen a copy of the 
speech as printed, though we wish we 
had it before us now. But from what 
we gathered of our friend the printer, 
the following may be regarded as a 
pretty fair specimen. 

“ Fellow-citizens, the time has come, 
(cheers) the time has come, (loud 
cheers) when every man in this great 
republic (loud and continued cheers) is 
called upon to act. (Great applause, 
which lasted several minutes and pre- 
vented the speaker from proceeding.”) 

After this modern Cicero had ex- 
hausted all the vials of his wrath upon 
the head of the offenders, in the pre- 
sence of a large audience of printers, 
the little fellow came forward with his 
apology. “ Why, sir,” said he, “ you 
asked me to print it so, and gave me a 
dollar for doing it.” Thereat the audi- 
ence in the printing-office, among whom, 
besides the printers, were half a dozen 
of the orator’s political acquaintances, 
who heard the speech, were as much 
convulsed with laughter, as were the 
audience in the city hall with applause. 


O^T With this number of the Youth’s 
Cabinet, subscribers who are in arrears 
are, with our best bow, presented with 
their bills. Payment, it will be recol- 
lected, is due in advance. The publish- 
er has, however, extended his courtesy 
to those who have not paid voluntarily, 
four months ; and he now thinks he is 
warranted in urging all to forward the 
amount due as speedily as may be. 
Subscribers should inclose the money 
in a letter, and forward it by mail to 
the publisher, with the bill, which will 
be receipted, and returned without ex- 
pense to the subscriber. 

It is safer to send by mail than 
through any other medium, and the 
postage is very trifling. Besides, we 
will pay the postage on all letters from 
subscribers, inclosing three dollars or 
upwards. 

Our patrons, however, in distant parts 
of the country, will bear in mind that 
there are frequent opportunities occur- 
ring at this season of the year, to remit 
money to the city by private hands. 
Those among our subscribers who are 
in arrears — and we find there are a few 
in this category — will please consider 
themselves as the persons for whom this 
hint is intended. 



Mr. Bradbury’s Juvenile Oratorio 
was repeated a few weeks since; and 
we enjoyed the pleasure of hearing it 
again. We must describe it a little 
more particularly than we were able to 
do in our last number. The oratorio is 
called Flora’s Festival, and is pub- 
lished by M. H. Newman. It is in 
three parts — Morning, Noon, and Night. 
There were about five hundred little 


132 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


singers. The girls occupied the cen- 
tral part of the choir, the boys formed 
two wings on the right and left. All 
the girls were dressed in white, and 
wore a wreath of flowers round the 
head. frlora herself, the queen, of 
course was distinguished from the 
rest by a crown and a greater profu- 
sion of flowers. An arch of evergreens 
Was thrown across directly in front of 
the choir, and rested on the two large 
central columns. On the green ground 
of this arch appeared the words Fiord’s 
Festival , in very large letters, composed 
of artificial dahlias of different hues, 
perfect imitations of nature. Festoons 
of evergreens hung gracefully from the 
lamps ; and when we looked upon the 
bright faces of the songsters, and heard 
their sweet warblings, we thought it 
needed but little imagination to draw a 
picture of fairy land. It was a charm- 
ing treat, and the thousands who filled 
the Tabernacle at an early hour, testi- 
fied their delight in no measured terms. 

Mr. Bradbury, we understand, is 
about leaving for Germany, previous to 
which he will give a farewell festival, 
when this delightful oratorio will be 
repeated, and several other popular 
pieces performed. He hopes, by a re- 
sidence of some months in Europe, to 
benefit his health, which is somewhat 
impaired, and at the same time to add 
to his fund of musical knowledge. 


Mr. Editor, — Noticing a communi- 
cation in the February number of the 
Cabinet, over the signature of “ Sara- 
toga,” from our mutual friend C , 

it brought to my mind scenes of youth, 
which I trust are of as deep interest to 


us all, as were his boyish recollections 
to him. How very often have I thought 
when away from home and friends, of 
those days when we were members of 
the same Sabbath school, when the 
truths which we taught and studied 
were impressed upon our minds, and 
when, from the sacred desk, the man 
of God, now in Heaven, unfolded to 
us the great plan of salvation. Well 
do I remember when four of us used to 

meet at friend D ’s, to consult what 

should be our future course in life. 
Three out of four prepared for the Gos- 
pel ministry ; one went to his rest be- 
fore he completed his studies. How 
happy were those hours spent just be- 
fore evening service, when our worthy 
superintendent met the members and 
friends of the Sabbath school, to pray 
for its prosperity. How sweet, too, was 
it to mingle in the hymn sung by those 
just learning the song of redeeming 
love. These were the brightest days in 
our history, which we shall never for- 
get while memory lasts. If we are 
permitted to meet in Heaven, shall we 
not remember them even there with 
joyful interest? 

Your young readers may be assured 
that when they arrive at manhood, and 
meet with the temptations which beset 
them on every side, they will look 
back with pleasure to those Sabbaths 
they spent at the Sabbath school ; and 
if they love the service of God, these 
days will perhaps be regarded as the 
happiest they have ever spent in this 
world. Children, it is of the utmost 
importance that your habits are formed 
right ; during the period of youth, your 
characters are forming for good or evil. 
By all means avoid bad company. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


133 


Aim to be virtuous, for “ a good name 
is rather to be chosen than great riches. 
Its price is far above rubies.” f. 


Mr. Editor, — Knowing that atoms 
make mountains, and that united effort 
effects important results in the accom- 
plishment of particular objects, I here- 
with transmit for your Cabinet of 
thought the following 

ENIGMA. 

I am composed of forty-two letters. 
My 1 26 11 8 19 31 is an interesting 
study. My 3 1 9 41 is a river in 
Europe. My 5 18 19 is the cause or 
occasion of all evil. My 78191810 
35 was a prophet of God. My 27 29 
18 19 38 is a river in Europe. My 11 
31 9 13 was a celebrated city. My 14 
22 23 22 7 18 32 39 is the home of the 
blessed. My 15 16 34 36 are moun- 
ains in Europe. My 18 37 34 18 34 
29 was a prophet of God. My 20 22 
14 14 18 19 30 37 4 is the pursuit of 
man. My 24 16 15 24 33 is essential 
to happiness. My 25 6 34 23 is a cape 
in North America. My 31 26 15 28 
12 is the spring-time of life. My 40 
21 41 9 40 18 34 is one of the United 
States. My 42 8 9 18 15 37 was a 
king of Persia. My whole is a promise 
of the Savior. e. h. h. 


A SHORT DIALOGUE. 

William. Why, Frank, where did 
you get those beautiful books ? You are 
the most fortunate boy I know. You 
are all the time getting some new book 
or other. The last time I was here you 
had one, and now you have two or three 


more. How do you get them all ? I 
should really like to know. 

Frank. Well, there is no secret about 
it. Some months ago, I was looking 
over what was said on the cover of the 
Youth’s Cabinet about premiums. I 
noticed that if any one got a certain 
number of subscribers, he would have 
some beautiful books for nothing, and I 
thought to myself, I may just as well 
have these books as to let any body else 
take them. So I set about the business 
of getting my friends to subscribe for 
the Cabinet. I obtained half a dozen 
subscribers very easily, and sent their 
names and the money to the publisher. 
My friends got their magazine, and I got 
my books. That is all the secret there 
is about it. 

W. Why, did not these valuable books 
cost any thing ? 

F. Yes, I suppose they cost the pub- 
lisher something; but I did not pay a 
cent for them. 

W. Well, that is queer enough. 
What is this Youth’s Cabinet you 
speak of? Let me see it. I would 
like to hear what it says about the mat- 
ter of premiums. 

F. You shall look at the magazine. 
Here it is. Let me see, where is the 
list of premiums ? It is on this page, 
in the corner, I believe. Oh yes, here 
we have it. Read this, and you will 
find out a way to get books without pay- 
ing any money for them. 

W. ( thoughtfully .) I see how it is, 
now. I wonder if I could not contrive 
to get the Cabinet, and the premium, 
too, for nothing ? 

F. To be sure you can. I will show 
you how to manage that thing. If you 
I get three persons to take the magazine, 


134 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


and send Mr. Woodworth three dollars, 
he will send you the work for nothing ; 
because it says under that picture on 
the title-page, “four copies for three 
dollars.” Then if you can send any 
more subscribers, you can get one or 
more of the premiums. 

W. Well, I think I shall try it. 

F. I certainly would, if I were in 
your place ; and now I think of it, I will 
tell you another thing. You can, if you 
wish, get a pretty little book for each 
one of the subscribers. For instance : 


for three subscribers,, you get four 
copies of the Book of Flowers. Now 
you can tell the boys and girls, that if 
they will subscribe, and pay one dollar 
for the Youth’s Cabinet, they shall 
have, each one of them, this Book of 
Flowers into the bargain. Then you 
will have one for yourself, too ; for you 
get four in all, you know. 

There is a kind of moral to this 
dialogue, boys and girls. What do 
you think of it? We shall be glad to 
hear, however, on the subject. 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


135 


Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 


arly spring flowers are 
generally much easier 
for the young student 
to analyze, than those 
which appear later in 
the season. The reason 
is, that most of these flowers are very 
simple. You can easily find their sta- 
mens and pistils, and tell what class 
and order they belong to. Compound 
flowers and plants that have no stamens 
and pistils which you can see with the 
naked eye, are more abundant in the 
summer and fall. 

Emma. But, Mr. Thinker, the spring 
flowers are not all simple, I am sure. 
Else I am pretty simple myself ; for 
some of them have tried my patience a 
good deal. 

Theodore. Oh ho. Among the mul- 
titude of flowers in blossom during this 
month, it would be strange if they were 
all in the first thirteen classes. There 
are some exceptions, of course. 

George. I can think of one, at least. 

Josephine. I could count half a dozen. 

T. Very like. But what is that one 
which you recollect, master George ? 

G. One of the first and most common 
flowers of spring. I mean the Dande- 
lion. Is not that a compound flower ? 

T. Yes, and a very interesting one it 
is, too, when we examine it carefully. 
If the Dandelion were not so common, 
it would be a great deal more admired. 
But Emma, let us see what flowers you 
have found this morning. I perceive 
you have your apron full. 

Vol. II. 5 


E. Oh, Mr. Thinker, I have been 
delighted with my ramble in the woods. 
I never noticed so many pretty flowers 
before. I have found two or three 
which are entirely new, and the most 
beautiful you ever saw. I don’t know 
what they are. I had to wet my feet to 
get one of them. 

T. Suppose we .look at the last you 
mentioned. It must be a very attractive 
flower, I should think. Ah ! I know its 
face. It is an old favorite of mine. 

G. I know what it is. It is the 
Buttercup. 

J. No, George. It cannot be either 
of the species of the Ranunculus, though 
I thought it was at first. 

T. Well, we will soon find out what 
it is. 

J. Yes, I know what class it belongs 
to. It has a great many stamens, 
growing out of the calyx. It belongs 
to the eleventh class. 

T. How is that, Emma ? 

E. The stamens seem to me to grow 
out of the receptacle. I should say it 
was in the twelfth class and thirteenth 
order, just where we put the Ranuncu- 
lus the other day. 

T. Right. Now for its name. 

J. I have the genus. It is the Caltha. 
It answers to the description in the book, 
exactly. 

E. And here is the species. Why, 
Mr. Thinker, it is the Caltha Palustris , 
the Cowslip. I have heard of it fre- 
quently, though I never saw it before. 
But I have one flower a great deal 



136 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


more rare and beautiful than this ; and 
what is more, Josephine and I have 
analyzed it already. 

T. Well done. Where did you find 
this specimen? It is worth a ramble 
of half a dozen miles. I did not know 
that it could be found in this vicinity. 
It is the Wake Robin. 

G. It is a very easy flower to ana- 
lyze, is it not ? I almost wish flowers 
would never have any more than six 
or eight stamens, and about as many 
pistils, it would be so nice. Then we 
should not have to study so long to find 
out the name of a flower. 

E. Well, for my part, I am willing 
to let them grow just as they please. 
I doubt if I could make them any 
prettier than they are. Here is one 
which seems to be rather Unruly — it 
don’t choose to take a seat in any of the 
easy classes, and to tell the truth, I 
can’t tell where it belongs. 

T. Well, we may be sure of one 
thing to begin with. 

J. Yes, we may be sure that it is an 
odd looking plant — odd enough to have 
a class made on purpose for it, I should 
think. 

T. We may be sure it does not 
belong to the twenty-first class, too. 

J. How so ? 

T. It has stamens and pistils visible. 

E. Well, we have found one class it 
don’t belong to. That is something 
gained. 

T. Yes, for every step toward ascer- 
taining what a thing is not, brings us 
nearer what it is. But look here. 
Don’t you perceive, Emma, that the 
ttamens grow out of the pistil ? 

E. They seem to, certainly. 

T. What then ? 


E . The pi ant belongs to the eighteenth 
class. 

T. Well, you can very easily ascer- 
tain the rest. 

J. Oh, it is the Cypripedium. 

E. The Gay Lady’s Slipper. Why ! 
it does not look at all like the Lady’s 
Slipper in the garden. 

T. No; the garden Lady’s Slipper 
belongs to the fifth class, and it is quite 
another thing. That genus is called 
Impatiens. Its habits are very different 
from the Cypripedium. 

E. Oh, Mr. Thinker, that reminds 
me that you promised one of these days, 
to tell us something about the habits of 
plants — how they have organs like 
animals, how they breathe, and how 
they eat and drink to keep them alive — 
when shall we learn something about 
this ? 

T. When we meet again, perhaps. 
Meantime let us not forget to thank our 
heavenly Father for the beautiful flowers 
with which our woods and meadows 
abound at this season of the year. We 
have new proofs of his love to us, every 
day. Let us not withhold our love 
from him. 


Taking a Hint. 

t young lady told a gentlemen that 
her silver thimble was nearly 
worn out, and asked him what 
reward she ought to have for her 
industry. The gentleman, in answer 
sent her a new thimble, accompanied 
by these lines : — 

I send a thimble for fingers nimble, 

Which I hope will fit when you try it. 

’Twill last very long, if but half as strong 
As the hint you gave me to buy it. 


THE YC CJTH’S CABINET. 


137 



Story of the Zanaida Dove. 


A udubon, in his biography of birds, 
tells a very interesting tale about 
a pirate who was reformed by 
the agency of this little bird. 
We must give the story in the words 
of the naturalist : 

“A man who had been a pirate, 
assured me that several times, while at 
certain wells dug in the burning shelly 
sand of a well known key, which must 
here be nameless, the soft and melan- 
choly cry of the doves awoke in his 
breast feelings which long slumbered, 
melted his heart to repentance, and 
caused him to linger at the spot in a 
state of mind which he only who com- 
pares the wretchedness within him with 
the happiness of former innocence can 
truly feel. He never left the place 


without increased fears of fury, associa 
ted as he was, I believe by force, with 
a band of the most desperate villains 
that ever annoyed the navigation of the 
Florida coast. So moved was he by the 
notes of any bird, and especially by 
those of the dove, the only soothing 
sound he ever heard during his life of 
horrors, that through these plaintive 
notes, and them alone, he was induced 
to escape from his vessel, abandon his 
turbulent companions, and return to a 
family deploring his absence. After 
paying a visit to those wells, and 
listening once more to the cooing of the 
Zanaida dove, he poured out his soul 
in supplication for mercy, and once 
more became what Pope declared to be 
‘the noblest work of God,’ an honest 


138 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


man. His escape was effected amidst 
difficulties and danger ; but no danger 
seemed to be comparable with that of 
living in violation of human and divine 
laws ; and now he lives in the mid^t of 
his friends.” 


The Pilgrims and their Pitchers. 

t was long ago, and somewhere in 
M the Eastern clime. The king 
fl came into, the garden, and called 
the children round him. He led 
them up to a sunny knoll, and a leafy 
arbor on its summit. And when they 
had all sat down, he said, “You see far 
down the river, and hanging, as on the 
side of the hill, yon palace ? It is a 
palace, though here it looks so little and 
far away. But when you reach it, you 
will find it a larger and sweeter home 
than this; and when you come you will 
find that I have got there before you. 
And when you arrive at the gate, that 
they may know that you belong to me, 
and may let you in, here is what each 
of you must take with him.” And he 
gave to each of the children a most 
beautiful porcelain jar — a little pitcher 
so exquisitely fashioned that you were 
almost afraid to touch itj so pure that 
you could see the daylight through it, 
and with delicate figures raised on its 
sides. “ Take this, and carry it care- 
fully. Walk steadily, and the journey 
will soon be over.” 

But they had not gone far before they 
forgot. One was running carelessly 
and looking over his shoulder, when his 
foot stumbled, and as he fell full length 
on the stony path, the pitcher was 
shivered in a thousand pieces ; and one 


way and another, long, long before they 
reached the palace, they had broken all 
the pitchers. When this happened, I 
may mention what some of them did. 
Some grew sulky, and knowing that it 
was of no use to go forward without the 
token, they began to shatter the frag- 
ments still smaller, and dash the broken 
sherds among the stones, and stamped 
them with their feet ; and then they 
said, “Why trouble ourselves about this 
palace ? It is far away, and here is a 
pleasant spot. We will just stay here 
and play.” And so they began to play. 
Another could not play, but sat wring- 
ing his hands, and weeping bitterly. 
Another grew pale at first, but re- 
covered his composure a little or. 
observing that his pitcher was not 
broken so bad as some others. There 
were three or four large pieces, and 
these he put together as well as he 
could. It was a broken pitcher that 
could hold no water, but by a little 
care he could keep it together ; and so 
he gathered courage, and began to walk 
along more cautiously. 

Just then, a voice accosted the weep- 
ing boy, and looking up, he saw a very 
lovely form, with a sweet and pleasant 
countenance, such a countenance as is 
accustomed to be happy, though some- 
thing for the present has made it sad. 
And in his hand he held just such a 
pitcher as the little boy had broken, 
only the workmanship was more exqui- 
site, and the colors were as bright as 
the rainbow round the stranger’s .lead. 
“You may have it,” he said, “it is better 
than the one you have lost, and though 
it is not the same, they will know it at. 
the gate.”' The little mourner could 
scarcely believe that it was really 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


139 


meant for him ; but the kind looks of 
the stranger encouraged him. He held 
out his hand for the stranger’s vase, 
and gave a sob of joyful surprise when 
he found it his own. He began his 
journey again, and you would have 
liked to see how tenderly he carried his 
treasure, and how carefully he picked 
his steps, and how sometimes, when he 
gave another look at it, the tear would 
fill his eye, and he lifted up his happy 
thankful face to heaven. 

The stranger made the same offer to 
the playing boys ; but by this time they 
were so bent on their new amusements, 
that they did not care for it. Some 
saucy children said, he might leave his 
present there if he liked, and they would 
take it when they were ready. He 
passed away, and spoke to the boy who 
was carrying the broken pitcher. At 
first he would have denied that it wa$ 
broken, but the traveler’s clear glance 
had already seen it all ; and so he told 
him, “ You had better cast it away, and 
have this one in its stead.” The boy 
would have been very glad to have this 
new one, but to throw away the relics 
of his own, was what he could never 
think of. They were his chief depend- 
ence every time he thought of the 
journey’s end ; so he thanked the stran- 
ger, and clasped his fragments firmer. 
The boy with the gift-pitcher, and this 
other, reached the precincts of the 
pa ace about the same time. They 
«tood for a while and looked on. They 
noticed some of the bright-robed inhabi- 
tants going out and in, and every time 
they passed the gate, they presented 
such a token as they themselves had 
once got from the king, but had broken 
so long ago. 


The boy who had accepted the kind 
stranger’s present now went forward, 
and held it up ; and whether it was the 
light glancing on it from the pearly 
gate, I cannot tell, but at that instant 
its owner thought that it had never 
looked so fair. He who kept the gate 
seemed to think the same, for he gave a 
friendly smile, as much as to say, “ I 
know who gave you that;” and imme- 
diately the door was lifted up and let 
the little pilgrim in. The boy with the 
broken pitcher now began to wish that 
his choice had been the same ; but there 
was no help for it now. He adjusted 
the fragments as skilfully as he could, 
and trying to look courageous, carried 
them in both his hands. But he who 
kept the gate was not to be deceived. 
He shook his head, and there was that 
sorrow in his look which leaves no 
hope. The bearer of the broken pitcher 
still held fast his useless sherds ; but 
he soon found that it was vain to linger. 
The door continued shut. — Selected. 


Anecdote of Luther Martin. 

f E heard an anecdote of this dis- 
tinguished lawyer, a few days 
ago, which we do not remember 
to have met with in print, and 
which is certainly “ too good to be lost,” 
as the reporters say. Martin was on 
one occasion riding to Annapolis in a 
stage coach, in which was a solitary 
companion, a young gentleman just 
commencing the practice of law. After 
some familiar conversation, the young 
gentleman said : 

“Sir, you have been remarkably 
successful in your profession ; few men 


140 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


have gained so many cases ; will you 
be good enough to communicate to me, 
a beginner, the secret of your wondrous 
success ?” 

+ “I’ll do it, young man, on one con- 
dition, and that is, that you defray my 
expenses during my stay of a few days 
at Annapolis.” 

“Willingly,” replied the young man, 
hoping to profit greatly by the commu- 
nication. 

“ The secret of my success,” said 
Martin, “may be discovered in this 
advice, which I now give you, viz : — 
Be sure to have a good witness for 
every case you desire to secure.” 

On reaching Annapolis, Luther Martin 
was not very self-denying in the en- 
joyment presented by a fine hotel ; the 
snbstantials and general refreshments 
were dispatched in a manner quite 
gratifying to “mine host.” The time 
for return at length came. The young 
man and Martin stood together at the 
bar, and demanded their respective 
bills. 

Martin’s was enormous, but on glan- 
cing at it, he quietly handed it to the 
young lawyer, who running his eye 
over it leisurely, returned it with the 
utmost gravity. 

“Don’t you intend to pay it?” said 
Martin. 

“ Pay what ?” said the young lawyer. 

“Why, pay this bill. Did you not 
say on the route downward, that you 
would defray the charge ?” 

“ My dear sir,” said the young gen- 
tleman, “have you a good witness to 
prove what you demand in this case ?” 

Martin at once saw that he was 
caught, and eyeing his young friend a 
moment or two, he said pleasantly, 


“ You don’t need any counsel from me, 
young man, you don’t need any counsel 
from me.” — Melh. Protestant. 



The Foolish Calf: a Fable. 

jtj| calf used to run away from the 
old cow, its mother, and some- 
Wm times she could not find him for 
a long time. She talked to him 
a good deal about the sin and the 
danger of such mischievous conduct; 
but it did no good. The calf thought 
it was very cunning to run away. 
One day, when he had strayed farther 
away from home than ever, he met 
Lion, a large bull-dog. Lion came up 
to the calf, and caught him by the neck. 
“ What !” said the calf, “ you don’t 
mean to kill me, do you ?” 

“Certainly,” said the dog, “I am 
hungry, and want to eat you. Of 
course I shall have to kill you first.” 

“ But do you not know that it is very 
wicked indeed, to kill any body ?” said 
the calf. “ The Bible says, ‘ Thou shalt 
not kill how dare you break this com- 
mandment ?” 

“ My little preacher,” said Lion, “ I 
think I have heard something about 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


141 


these commandments you speak of; 
but I am a poor heathen of a dog, and 
am not very familiar with them. Pray, 
is there not one that says something 
about obeying one’s parents ? I should 
like to get all the instruction from you 
I fean — for I am sure you are a very 
learned and pious calf — but I hope 
vour sermon will be short, because I 


am in some haste to eat you.” Then 
the dog bit the calf severely, and would 
have killed him, if a man had not 
come along just in season to save the 
poor fellow’s life. When he returned 
to his mother, he was wiser than he 
was before he went away. That ad- 
venture had made quite a sensible calf 
of him . — Theodore Thinker . 


Spring. 

Spring has returned, and now the welcome train 
Of feathered songsters pour their notes again ; 
Perched on a trembling bough, the robin sings 
Her sweetest lays, then spreads her burnished wings. 
The leafless woods that mourned her absence long, 
Is now enlivened by her cheerful song ; 

The snowy mantle, that enwrapped the plain, 

Has gone to mingle with the distant main. 

And now the sun imparts his genial rays; 
Ascending high, he lengthens out the days, 

Dispels the lingering frost, and wakes to bloom 
The realm of nature from its wintry tomb. 

The ploughman hastens to his wonted field, 

Whose deep-wrought furrows will a harvest yield ; 
He plies his task through each successive day — 
Hope lightens toil, and cheers the laborer’s way ; 
But if to ease or indolence inclined, 

A scanty harvest he will surely find. 

’Tis in the spring of life, as that of years — 

In minds uncultured, barrenness appears ; 

Or worse, perhaps, as noxious weeds will grow, 
Prolific source of wretchedness and wo ; 

For as the twig, so is the youthful mind — 

As that is bent, so is the tree inclined. 


Clinton, April, 1847. 


B. 


142 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Key of the Collin. 

FROM THE GERMAN OP JEAN PAUL. 

A mother knelt o’er her loved one’s tomb, 
And her eyes were red with weeping, 

For her cherished flower in its morning bloom 
Was now in the cold earth sleeping. 

The coffin’s key was in her hand, 

In her heart was deepest sadness ; 

And her spirit yearned for the better land, 
Where grief would be turned to gladness. 

“ I will keep the key, ’’.she calmly said, 

“ Of thy dwelling dark and lonely, 

So that none shall ever thy rest invade, 

But the mother who loves thee only.” 

She turned her eyes to heaven’s bright dome, 
Where the silent stars were beaming, 

And her spirit caught, in child-like tone, 

These words of holiest meaning— 

u Throw away the key ! O mother dear, 

For the coffin holds not thy child ; 

He has risen from earth, and dwelleth here ; 
For the Savior upon him smiled.” 


The Poor Irish Peasant. 

» o you ever think, young friend, 
while you are enjoying all the 
blessings of home, and have 
almost every comfort which a 
reasonable boy or girl could desire — 
do you ever think how many poor 
people are suffering for food and 
clothing? Do you ever think, when 
the snow is falling, and the wind is 
piling it up into high drifts by the road- 
side, how many little children are 
hovering around a few coals of fire in 
a wretched hovel, or exposing their 
bare feet to the tender mercies of the 
storm without, begging for something 
to keep them from starving ? 


There are hundreds of people who 
have died within a few months, in Ire- 
land, from starvation. Whole families 
have perished, because they could not 
get food to eat. The man you see in 
the engraving is a poor laborer, living 
in this unhappy country. He has a 
large family of children. The little 
babe has gone — she died a few days 
ago — and it almost broke the poor 
man’s heart to see her gasping for 
breath, and stretching out her little 
hands for food, and to hear her, in 
lisping accents, begging for a morsel 
of bread. But the poor little creature 
has gone now, and he and the mother, 
with tears flowing down their care- 
worn faces, give thanks to their hea- 
venly Father that he has called the 
little sufferer home, and that she will 
feel the pangs of cold and hunger no 
more. 

Little Mary is laid in the grave, and 
the old man, sad and disconsolate, goes 
away from home, and tries to find some 
work to do, so that he may earn a few 
pence for his starving family. Alas ! 
there is nothing for him to do. He 
wanders far from his dwelling, until his 
limbs, weak and trembling from fasting, 
refuse to bear him farther, and he 
returns, desponding, to his wife and 
children, to hear again their cries for 
the bread he cannot provide for them. 
For a while he yields to despair. He 
sleeps — the poor man sleeps ; and for a 
few short hours his sorrows are buried 
in forgetfulness. Sleep on, child of 
grief! and sweet be thy dreams. For- 
get the grim visage of poverty that 
stares so angrily upon thee when thou 
art awake. Forget that the last morsel 
of bread has been divided among thy 





✓ 





144 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


babes. Forget that Willie is hourly- 
sinking into the arms of death. Forget 
that as the mother kneeled at his couch 
of straw, just now, to bathe his brow 
burning with fever, she heard his faint 
whisper, “ Mother ! oh, mother ! bring 
me three grains of corn!” Ay, forget 
that — forget all. 

Poor man ! thou hast waked too soon, 
methinks. And yet it is not too soon, 
for the embers are growing cold on the 
hearth, and the fuel is all gone. He 
leaves his hovel, gathers the scanty 
pittance of brushwood which his hard- 
hearted landlord cares not for, and 
returns home tottering under his bur- 
den. Poor victim of poverty and sor- 
row ! thou art wretched indeed, if thou 
hast not a treasure laid up in heaven. 

Dear children, this is scarcely a 
fancy sketch. Could you visit some 
of the hovels of Ireland, you would 
witness many such scenes as this. 
Every steamer that arrives from our 
father-land brings new tidings of dis- 
tress. Thank God! our countrymen 
are sending food to these sufferers. 
Will not the readers of the Cabinet do 
something for Ireland? If every boy 
and girl who reads this article should 
give one penny for this object, it would 
buy a great many barrels of flour, and 
send comfort to hundreds of starving 
children. 


Washington, visiting a lady in his 
neighborhood, on leaving the house, a 
little girl was directed to open the door. 
He turned to the child and said, “ I am 
sorry, my little dear, to give you so 
much trouble.” “I wish, sir,” she 
replied, “ it was to let you in.” 


“I don’t want to.” 

BY MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS. 

harley Wheaton was a very 
good little boy. But Charley 
had one fault — most little boys 
have more. Perhaps some of the 
little boys and girls who read the 
Cabinet have the same fault ; and if 
they knew it to be a fault , would try 
to mend. Charley’s fault was this : — 
when very busy at play, or not in a 
mood to do a favor, he was in the 
habit of saying, “I don’t want to.” 
Now Charley had a very tender mother, 
who loved him very much, and spared 
no pains to make him good and happy. 
She saw this fault in her little son and 
resolved to nip it in the bud; for she 
knew that, to be happy, he must be 
obliging and helpful to all around him. 
One day, when she had taken the last 
stitch in a pair of new pantaloons that 
Charley was very desirous of having 
finished in time for New Year, she 
asked him to bring her a handful of 
wood from the out-house. “ I don’t 
want to,” said Charley, not lifting his 
eyes from his beautiful new “ Book of 
Gems.” His mother reflected, a mo- 
ment, then called him to her side, and 
tenderly inquired if he felt unwell. 
“ O no, mother; but why do you ask?” 
“ Because, my son, I was thinking you 
should have some very good reason for 
declining to give your mother any aid 
in your power. It is very little that 
you can do in return for all the care 
and tenderness I have bestowed on you, 
since — a little helpless infant — God 
placed you in my arms. I do not want 
to labor when I am ill and tired, but 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


145 


my dear little son must be fed and 
clothed, and I love so much to gratify 
him, that, ill and tired as I am, I have 
finished this garment that he might be 
‘smart’ to greet the New Year. I do 
not want to wake and watch when I am 
needing sleep to refresh my weary 
frame, and fit me for my daily labor; 
but I love my little boy ; I rise and 
soothe his pain in all the long night, 
and never think of saying, ‘I don’t 
want to.’ O, Charley, what would 
become of such helpless little boys as 
you, if those who have the care of them 
were so* selfish they did not want to 
leave their books and rest to provide 
for their wants ?” Charley had stolen 
his arm around his mother’s neck, 
and, dropping his head on her bosom, 
begged her to forgive him. He never 
forgot this lesson of his mother; and 
now that he has grown to be a man, 
he always reproves the little boys if 
they say, “ I don’t want to,” and tells 
them the story I have been telling you. 
He tells them, too, that his mother’s 
words have made him a better man 
and more fit for heaven. They have 
taught him to “ do to others as he would 
have others do to him.” 


Caroline’s Story and Dream. 

BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR. 

nf pleasant evening, during the 
|| last summer, soon after twilight 
Wm had set in, I drew my chair to 
the open window, intending to 
spend the remainder of the day quietly 
alone. The air was loaded with per- 
fumes. and often a slight breeze, playing 


among the flowers, would shower upon 
me quite a profusion of fragrant leaves. 
Screened by a honeysuckle, which was 
trained about my window, I could, un- 
observed, watch the movements, and 
listen to the conversation of my young 
friends, who in groups were passing the 
place in which I was sitting. 

While thus occupied, an acquaint- 
ance came in, saying, if I loved to see 
children at their sports, I had better 
accompany her home, where a party of 
them had met. I gladly accepted the 
invitation ; and as we approached her 
house — a pleasant one embowered amid 
fine shrubbery — we heard the ringing 
laugh and merry voices that alone would 
have told us who were then the occu- 
pants of the place. Most of the chil- 
dren had wandered into the garden ; 
and, as the bright moon was shining 
upon them, were playing hide and seek 
among the currant bushes. 

We wished to enter the house unob- 
served ; but our white dresses betrayed 
us, and a little black-eyed nymph scam- 
pered off to her companions, saying, 
“Mrs. Lyman has come back, and 
brought Caroline Gray with her.” In 
an instant they came thronging about 
us, exclaiming, “ Won’t we have nice 
times ? Now we ’ve some one to tell us 
what to do. You will play with us, 
won’t you, Carry ? from some of the 
larger girls, as they looked beseechingly 
into my face, half doubting whether, 
as I was a young lady, I would gratify 
them. I told them I would do all I 
could to make them happy ; and my 
answer contented them. A ring was 
soon formed of boys and girls, but bro- 
ken quickly ; and two little dimpled 
hands were extended to Mrs. Lyman 


146 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


and myself, and a sweet voice said, 
“Do come; there is just enough room 
for you.” 

A fine little fellow, twelve years old, 
was seated in the chair, whom all loved, 
because he was so generous. We sang 
merrily, “We ’re sailing in the boat,” 
etc., and when we had finished the line, 
“There’s a rose in the garden,” he 
selected me for his partner, much to 
the chagrin of my neighbor on the left, 
a chubby little body, who could scarcely 
conceal his disappointment. As the 
boy who had chosen me sealed his vow 
of “constancy” by pressing his rosy 
lips to mine, I could not refrain from 
smiling at the remembrance of the deep 
blushes which used, a few years before, 
to suffuse face and neck upon similar 
occasions. 

After this, I taught them some new 
games, including several French ones, 
of which they had never heard. They 
nearly tired me out ; for I was puss in 
“ puss in the corner,” the blinded one 
in “ blindman’s buff,” and the fox in 
“ fox and geese ;’•’ and my feet were not 
used to moving about as swiftly as theirs. 
I amused them for a long time with the 
“ magic ring.” Filling a cup with flour, 
I emptied it upon a large platter care- 
fully, so that it retained the form in 
which it had been pressed. I then put 
a plain gold ring in the top, so that it 
would not easily be shaken. Each then 
took our turn in cutting off a slice of 
the flour, trying not to displace the ring. 
It was soon in danger of falling; and 
the hand of the little girl, who last took 
the knife, trembled so violently, that 
when it did so, it was completely buried 
out of sight in the flopr. I told her she 
must pick it up with her teeth, which 


she did quickly, and as she raised her 
head, her curls and face were covered 
with flour. 

There was a shout of good-natured 
merriment at her ludicrous appearance. 
“I should think you were a miller;” 
“ She has been drinking out of the milk- 
pan, and dipped her face in the cream,” 
said one and another. “She looks just 
like the little mouse mother pulled out 
of her flour barrel,” lisped out little 
Alice D , the youngest and the play- 

thing for us all. Ellen — for that was 
the name of the victim — shook her curls 
good-humoredly, saying, “ Never mind, 
it will be my turn to laugh next.” 

After most of the children had paid 
the forfeit, Mr. Seymour came in, and, 
in spite of his protestations that he was 
“ an old man — had forgotten how to 
play” — they compelled him to join in 
the fun. His whiskers, and profuse 
black hair, when powdered with flour, 
made him present so ridiculous an ap- 
pearance, that the children thought 
laughing at him the best of the sport. 

The little party early broke up, high- 
ly delighted with their visit. There 
were some things that contributed to 
make them enjoy it which I will men- 
tion ; and I hope, in some respects, those 
who read this story will imitate their 
example : Each one seemed anxious to 
make the rest happy. When any thing 
was proposed, no one said, “ I don’t like 
that — let us do something else ;” but 
what pleased one, all were contented to 
do. When the supper was summoned, 
there was no rushing out of the draw- 
ing-room, but they left it quietly ; and 
when at the table, they waited patiently 
till they were helped. 

To be continued. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


147 



The Flying-fish 

S ere is a picture of the Flying- 
fish. This is a very singular 
animal, and a part of the machi- 
nery of his body is very curious. 
Some of the readers of the Cabinet, who 
are accustomed to think for themselves, 
will no doubt see that every thing is 
curious about the bodies of animals. 
True enough. But what we mean is, 
that the flying-fish is a very singular 
animal, and in some respects resembles 
a bird as well as a fish. 


and his Enemy. 

Here we see very plainly the great 
wisdom of God, in so constructing ani- 
mals as to adapt them to their peculiar 
circumstances. The wing of the bird 
is made very light, and has a great 
many feathers in it, with down upon 
the edges. The little tubes in these 
feathers are filled with air, so that the 
bird will be very light, and so that he 
can rise easily to a great height. But 
the fish could do nothing with such 
feathers. The very moment the feathers 



THE ENEMY OP THE FLYING-FISH; 


are wet in water, they are useless. So 
God provides a very different wing for 
the flying-fish. But what does he 
want wings for? That we shall tell 
you before we have done, but not quite 
yet. Two of the fins of this fish, one 
on each side, are made so that they can 
be opened and shut like fans. They 
are so large, that when they are spread, 


the fish can easily fly out of the water, 
and if he wishes, can sustain himself 
for a considerable time above the 
surface. 

Flying-fish live in warm climates 
only. They are found in the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. , Large shoals of them 
are often seen swimming gently in the 
pure clear water, in search of food. 


« 


148 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


For a while they are very happy and 
playful. But by and by, they see their 
deadly enemy coming in great numbers, 
and very soon their sport is at an end, 
and the most they care about, for the 
time, is to keep clear of their jaws. 
Here you perceive the use of the wings 
>f the flying-fish. The wings are 
needed to enable the fish to escape from 
the pursuit of another large fish. The 
principal enemy of the flying-fish is 
the Bonito. We have given a picture 
of one of them on the preceding page. 
They are always found in great num- 
bers where the flying-fish are ; and 
wherever they appear, the flying-fish 
swim away as fast as they can. The 
enemy gives a long chase. Away 
skims the shoal of flying-fish. For a 
while it is doubtful which will triumph ; 
but by and by, the enemy overtake the 
fugitives. Then the flying-fish use 
their wings, and the whole of them rise 
like birds into the air. 


Life on the Prairie. 

. BY REV. S. R. RIGGS. 

« !v n the mind of one who has been 
accustomed only to looking upon 
m farms and woodlands interspersed, 
* strange impressions are made by 
being placed in the midst of a great 
western prairie. Passing up the Mis- 
sissippi, two years ago, I had seen a few 
small prairies, such as that at Prairie 
du Chien, Prairie la Croix, and Wapas- 
kas prairie, where the hills were skirted 
about with scruo oaks. Beautiful they 
were m the month of June, spread out 
like a great green carpet covered with 


flowers of every hue. At the mouth 
of the St. Peter’s river, too, there are 
beautiful little prairies and silvery lakes 
bordered with wood. From that point 
we toiled up the crooked St. Peter’s, in 
an open boat, for six days, and launch- 
ed out upon the ocean prairie, which 
reaches north past Lord Selkirk’s settle- 
ment, farther than the knowledge of 
man goes, and west to the Rocky moun- 
tains. On this w r ide expanse of green 
grass and flowers we pitched our tent 
night after night. 

But, during the journey, we were 
never long out of sight of wood. The 
tops of the trees which skirt along the 
St. Peter’s river, were to be seen at one 
side at a distance ; and occasionally the 
view was relieved by a little island of 
wood about a lake, or some trees scat- 
tered along a little stream which crossed 
our road. But the great, wide, far- 
stretching prairie was the one grand 
idea which filled our minds and wearied 
them with constant sameness. One rise 
after another, one glorious meadow after 
another, it rolled on. Well do I remem- 
ber how often we were deceived in re- 
gard to distance. In the morning, be- 
fore the sun rose, we were on our way. 
A few trees around some lake, or along 
some stream, were to be reached, where 
we would kindle a fire and cook our 
breakfast. It seemed but a short dis- 
tance ; but hour after hour passed away, 
and finally, at ten or eleven o’clock, to 
our great joy, we found that we had 
actually reached the place. At night, 
too, we must reach wood and water, or 
carry both with us, if we would pass 
the night comfortably. This part of 
the prairie, a distance of one hundred^ 
and twenty-five miles, I have now 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


149 


passed over fifteen times, but in thinking 
over the road, it requires an effort to 
conceive of it as so long, so few points 
have impressed themselves on my mind. 

Several years ago, in passing from 
this place to Fort Pierre, on the Mis- 
souri river, I had a better specimen of 
prairie traveling and prairie life. For 
a week we continued with a caravan of 
Indians who were going out to the buf- 
falo region. The horses were packing, 
the women and children, and even dogs, 
were carrying heavy loads, so that eight 
or ten miles was our day’s journey. 
We “camped” where they “camped,” 
and occasionally helped them eat a 
’ piece of tortoise, and even a polecat. 
We saw them kill some buffalo, and 
taking a piece, passed on with two 
young Indians for our guides. 

Standing on the western border of 
the Coteau des Prairies, we were shown 
some conical hills which rise in the 
midst of the prairie to the height of one 
hundred or one hundred and fifty feet. 
They had a dim, hazy, cloud-like ap- 
pearance. This was the middle of the 
afternoon of a September day. We 
passed on down into the valley of the 
James river. What a valley that is — 
as hard as a floor, with short grass, no 
landmarks, not even a mullen-stalk, by 
which one could steer straight. The 
next evening we crossed the James 
river, and pitched our tents near the 
sacred hills, as the Dakota Indians call 
them, which we had seen thirty hours 
before. 

In making this journey, we several 
times found no water for the distance 
of forty miles. Wood was, for the most 
part, quite out of the question. We 
used the “ hois de vache ,” as the French 


call it. When dry, it makes a very 
pleasant fire; but if wet, it produces 
nothing but smoke. Our patience was 
quite tried with .it, one misty Sabbath, 
when we could neither prepare our food 
nor dry our wet clothes. 

I will relate but one more incident of 
this journey. We had no road, no trail. 
On our return, in this great valley of 
the James river, we accidentally came 
across the cart track which we had 
made when going. Our hearts bounded 
with joy. It seemed as if we had met 
a friend in that great wilderness prairie. 

But what is life among these sons of 
the prairie ? Living in their skin tents, 
which are manfactured from the buffalo, 
they move much about from place to 
place, killing and eating. In the win- 
ter season, they pitch their tents along 
the streams for the sake of wood and 
water. When the thermometer is below 
zero, it is not very comfortable seeking 
for food on these wide prairiea. Fre- 
quently have I been told, by Dakota 
men, that they have chased the buffalo 
when it was so cold that, ere they were 
aware, the hand which held the bow was 
frozen fast around it ; and at such times, 
if the buffalo fail them, as it is not un- 
frequently the case, they are in danger 
of starving. Indeed, after they are re- 
duced to the last extremity, their dogs 
and horses are eaten. This is a kind 
of life which I imagine most of the rea- 
ders of the Cabinet would not desire. 

They, might, however, be glad to see 
a great prairie on fire. As soon as the 
grass will burn in the autumn, the In- 
dians are found setting fire to it. This 
they sometimes do that they may inform 
their friends where they are ; but gene- 
rally it is for no reason at all. But it 


150 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


is only when the wind blows high that 
the fire runs rapidly. Then it leaps 
and jumps along in the short grass, 
leaving all scorched and black behind. 
When it reaches the lower meadow 
lands, it crackles and thunders through 
the tall grass, rolling up volumes of 
smoke and flames toward heaven. Some- 
times our hay-stacks and fences have 
been burned up, and our houses only 
saved with difficulty. Such are some 
of the events of life on the prairie. 

Lao Qui Parle Mission, Iowa, January, 1847. 


The Messengers of Mercy. 

S arly one Sunday morning, as a 
clergyman was passing by a mean 
looking cottage, he saw the poor 
man who lived there sawing wood. 
He stopped, and asked him why he had 
not sawed his wood during the week, so 
that he might have Sunday for a day 
of rest. 

“ I saw my wood to-day,” replied the 
poor man, “ because I am never at home 
on week days ; I have so large a family, 
that it takes all my earnings to support 
them. The place where I work is at 
a considerable distance, and when I 
come home, I am too tired to saw wood 
or do any thing. I have nothing but 
what I can earn from day to day, and 
the winter is very severe, and I cannot 
get enough to make all comfortable; 
besides, I could not go to church in 
these clothes, and I have no better.” 

The clergyman then observed how 
miserably the poor fellow was clothed. 
“Come with me,” he said; and he 
took him home, gave him from his 
own scanty wardrobe, a decent suit of 


I clothes, invited him to go to church 
with him, and promised him that he 
would see his wood sawed for him the 
next day. 

The poor man went to church, and 
his faith was strengthened, and his 
heart was cheered, by the words that 
he heard from this true servant of God. 

The next day he went as usual to 
his labor, wondering whether he should 
find his wood sawed for his family 
when he returned home. Did the 
Christian minister forget his promise ? 
or did he send some one to saw the poor 
man’s wood ? No, he was too poor to 
do the last, and too rich in good works 
to do the first. He went himself, and 
sawed wood enough to last the poor 
man’s family for more than a week. 

. Was he not a true Christian minister ? 
and may we not all follow his example ? 

I once visited a poor, miserable 
dwelling, where I heard a very bad 
man using wicked and cruel language 
to his wife, who was confined to her 
bed by illness; it was fearful to see 
and hear him ; and I am sorry to say, 
I had not the courage to speak to him — 
I actually trembled with horror and 
dread. But a little girl, about eleven 
years of age, and who was dying of a 
consumption, went up to the angry man, 
and laid her small, emaciated, thin 
hand upon his arm, and looked right up 
in his face, and said, “Father, don’t 
speak so, God hears all we say; pray 
don’t speak so, father.” She uttered 
these* few words with such tender ear- 
nestness, and such loving gentleness, 
that her feeble, trembling voice touched 
the heart of the angry man, and he was 
silent for a moment, and then he said, 
“ I will do any thing that child tells me 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


151 


to do, for she’s an angel.” His fierce 
nature was subdued ; goodness and 
love had made this little sick girl one 
of God’s ministering angels to her 
wicked father. 

Go with me now to that small gloomy 
room, and see sitting in one corner of it 
a poor sick looking boy ; there is a pair 
of crutches on the floor by his side ; his 
face is too thoughtful for one so young ; 
tears are running slowly down his 
cheeks as he is looking into the fire so 
unconsciously. His mother is so busy 
at her work she does not see his tears. 
Presently a bright, healthy-looking boy 
comes singing, and laughing into the 
room ; Tiis cheeks are rosy, and his step 
is full of joy. “ Why James,” said the 
lame boy, “I thought you had gone 
with the other boys skating this moon- 
light evening.” “No,” said James, “I 
have come to play with you; come, 
where’s the backgammon board ? I 
shall beat you well to-night, to make up 
for the drubbing you gave me the last 
time we played.” 

“Oh, how glad I am!” said the poor 
prisoner. Now look at his pleasant 
face; his tears are dried up; he is as 
merry as his friend. The room no 
longer seems small and gloomy, for the 
laughter of innocent and happy hearts 
can make any place seem bright and 
joyful; 

The mind that feels no smart, 

Enlivens all it sees ; 

and before the light of love, narrow 
walls seem to melt away, and a bound- 
less heaven to open upon us. These 
are true stories I have told. Let us 
thank God, for all the faithful ministers 
of his truth and love that we have ever 
known, and who have been the dispen- 
5 * 


sers of his goodness to us ; and let us 
remember to go and do likewise, and 
that each one of us may be and ought 
to be, in his and her humble sphere, a 
minister of his love to whoever needs 
any help that we can give. 

And who is there so weak that he 
cannot help some one? Who so very 
poor that he can do no good to any 
one ? Like the poor minister, he can, 
perhaps, give his time and his labor 
to the poor; like the heavenly-minded 
little girl, he can give such an example 
of patient, gentle goodness that his small 
haud and feeble voice may, perhaps, 
have the power to control the fierce 
passions of the wicked, with whom he 
may be forced to associate ; like the 
loving, happy boy, he may cheerfully 
resign some of his merry play-hours to 
the poor lonely sufferer who seems to 
be forgotten by all, and left to weep 
alone in this wide, happy world ; and 
by carrying to him the fresh, overflow- 
ing joy of his own heart, may chase 
away his gloom, 

And make a wintry day 

Seem bright as early May. 

Thus may we all be imitators of Him 
who came into the world not to be min- 
istered unto, but to minister. — Child's 
Friend. ^ 


“A Frenchmafc, exhibiting some sa- 
cred relics and other curiosities, pro- 
duced a sword, which he assured his 
visitors was ‘de sword dat Balaam had 
wen he would kill de ass.’ A spectator 
remarked that Balaam had no sword, 
but only wished for one. * Yer well ; 
dis is de one he wish for.’” 


152 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Death-bed. 

! t is sad to think of the close of life, 
when the heart has made no prepa- 
rations for a future world. But 
we may be joyful even in death, if 
we can reflect on a life well spent in the 
service of God, and feel assured that we 
have a treasure in heaven. 

An early preparation for death is a 
duty that commends itself to all. Even 
prattling childhood ceases its joyful song, 


and the sobs of weeping mourners seem 
to ask if the tender spirit has gone to 
heaven. 

Yes, children die ; and ere another 
new moon may hang her horn over the 
clouds of the west, some of my little 
readers may kiss their dear parents and 
their little brothers and sisters for the 
last time. Will they think of the sad- 
ness and the anguish of their friends, 
if these should be called to attend their 
death-bed, and not feel that Christ was 



THE MISER'S DEATH-BED. 


there to take the little sufferer away to 
his own kingdom, whete there is no more 
pain, and where sorrow and sighing flee 
away ? 

But in the death of one whose locks 
have whitened under the snows of four 
score winters, while death, judgment, and 
eternity have never received serious con- 
sideration, there is something dreadful. 


You see here such an old man on his 
death-bed. This world has been his 
hope. To secure its riches he has even 
descended to crime. How fondly he 
loves gold. See, he is counting it over 
in the hour of death. Here is a high- 
wayman who has been one of his con- 
federates in the robberies by which he 
has accumulated a fortune. The rob- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


153 


ber stands at the foot of the old man’s 
couch, as if he would raise his courage 
by making jokes on the awful realities 
of death. 

But there is an anxious look and a 
sinister purpose expressed in his coun- 
tenance. Besides, you notice a deadly 
weapon in his hand. He has feared that 
his master in crime might falter at this 
last sad hour, and discover his accom- 
plices. The exhibition of the weapon 
tells a purpose the like of which the old 
man has been too familiar with in his ac- 
tive life. His own hand had not, indeed, 
shed human blood. But he had shared 
in the plunder which his accomplices 
had taken from those they had killed at 
night, in a wild forest path that led 
through a notch of a neighboring moun- 
tain. The past calls up to his remem- 
brance a long train of the victims who 
fell a sacrifice to his avarice in one way 
or another. 

I have heard of happy and triumphant 
songs at life’s last hour ; but here are 
only groans that remind one of the creak- 
ing of the gates that bar the soul from 
bliss for ever. 

A benevolent lady has come in to ad- 
minister to his wants, and to comfort him 
in view of his approaching death. But 
he turns away, and seems to loathe her 
kind and comforting words, and utters 
curses while convulsed with death’s last 
struggle. 

My little readers, think of such a life, 
and such a death ! and pray that Christ 
may early be your friend. j. m. s. 


“He who knows useful things, and 
not he who knows many things, is the 
wise man.” 


The Mountain in the Plain. 

ne of the most interesting, and, 
|| perhaps, most effective methods 
W of teaching moral and religious 
truths, is through the medium of 
fables and allegories. Our Saviol* 
taught a good many precepts in this 
manner. His parables are rich in the 
extreme. In the course of our reading 
the other day, we fell in with an article 
of this character, with the above cap- 
tion, which pleased us very much ; 
and thinking it would please our 
readers too, and perhaps illustrate a 
very important scriptural truth, we 
determined to copy it. We cannot toll 
who was the writer, nor where the 
allegory was originally published ; but 
we think it is exceedingly well written. 
It savors a little of the quaint style of a 
past age ; yet it may have been written 
quite lately for all that. Here it is : 

There was once a mountain in the 
midst of an extensive plain. The plain 
was a wild common, on which lived 
many people, some of them very hard- 
wrought, some of them very wicked, 
and most of them very wretched. They 
busied themselves rooting out the furze, 
the thistles, and briars that grew plenty 
on the plain. But it was amazing how 
fast these weeds grew up again, and 
what scanty crops repaid their toil. 
And besides all this, hardly a day went 
by but some one was torn by wild beasts 
which infested the neighboring forest, 
or plundered and beaten, and possibly 
murdered, by robbers who haunted 
there. Yet they took little notice of 
the mountain. Its sides were rugged. 
None of the people in the plain had 
ever been on the top of it. But a few 


154 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


of the more noticing had made some 
observations on it. They remarked 
that a perpetual sunshine settled on its 
summit, and they inferred that it must 
be a very genial clime, for by the help 
of their prospect-glasses they could 
make out golden fields and gardens 
bright with blossoms, and over the 
mountain’s edge folded thick bunches 
of verdure heavy with purple fruit. 
Still nobody had been on the top, and 
few paid much attention to the mountain 
in the plain. 

One day as a man was musing on 
the common near its foot, and was 
grudging to think what a very toilsome 
life he was leading, he heard a solemn 
whisper in his ear. It was such a 
startling whisper that it raised him to 
his feet. It said, “Tarry not in the 
plain.” And he began to move before 
he had time to deliberate. He cast an 
eye at the mountain, and as he saw 
high up and far away some of its inhabi- 
tants walking in its light, he said to 
himself, “ Happy people ! Would that 
I were with you.” And he wandered 
round and round the hill, but found 
nowhere that he could go easily up. 
At last he came to a sort of gully or 
ravine that promised to take him to the 
top. He went winding up some way 
without much difficulty, till suddenly 
he came out upon a ledge which over- 
hung a dark lake far below. But still 
the rocky pass promised to conduct him 
higher, and .determining not to look down 
if he could help it, he began again to 
clamber upward, till at last he found 
himself in a niche of rock beyond which 
he could not go. He looked up and 
saw cliff hanging over cliff, and not 
even a thread of pathway by which to 


scramble higher. He looked down, and 
the moment he did so the sweat began 
to ooze from his finger-points, and his 
heart to flutter with faintness and fear, 
for he was clinging by a jutting crag, 
and he had scarcely courage to draw a 
single breath, lest it should loosen his 
slippery hold, and send him and the 
rotten rock a-spinning to the lake below. 
Just then the same voice which had 
startled him on the plain, whispered 
in his ear, “ Cast thyself down hence.” 

The proposal was a strange one, but 
the voice was so friendly and encourag- 
ing, that he almost hesitated whether 
he would not comply, when it spoke 
again in a sweet whisper as before, but 
this time such a secret might went with 
it, that the man could not refuse, though 
he almost wondered at himself. “ Cast 
thyself down.” And he let go his hold, 
when instead of bolting down to the 
abyss, a powerful arm caught hold of 
him; he felt himself securely borne, 
and wafted upward on viewless wings, 
was landed safe on the mountain’s 
crown, and as soon as the amazement 
of deliverance had somewhat subsided, 
he flung himself on a fragrant bank, 
where some fruits newly shaken from 
the tree were lying. He was full of 
blessedness, and wept awhile. That 
evening one of the people of the plain 
passing near the mountain, thought he 
heard the voice of an old neighbor 
singing far up on the summit. But it 
was a new song, not known thereaway, 
and except one verse, the man could 
remember none of it : 

“ He took me from a fearful pit, 

And from the miry clay : 

And on a rock he set my feet, 
Establishing my way.” 


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155 


The Child and the Dew-drops. 

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 

“ Father! there are no dew-drops on my rose. 

I came to seek them, but they all are gone. 

Was night so niggard? or did morning steal 
Those diamonds, ere her time ?” 

“Be patient, boy.” 

Soon, the soft falling of a summer shower 
Drew quiet music from the quivering leaves, 

And thro’ the hollows of the freshen’d grass 
Drew lines of silver. 

Then, a bow sprang forth, 

Spanning the skies. 

“ See, child ! those glorious hues, 
Violet and gold. The dew-drops thou didst mourn, 
Mingle and sparkle there. Remember well, 

That what is pure and beautiful on earth 
Shall smile in Heaven.” 

He knew not that he spake 
Prophetic words. But ere the infant moon 
Swell’d to a perfect orb her crescent pale, 

The spirit of that fair and loving child, 

Which briefly on the parent’s breast had hung, 

And trembled like a dew-drop, was exhal’d, 

And went to Heaven. 

Hartford, April, 1847. 


The Walk. 


BY ROBERT EUGENE BOYD, AGED NINE YEAR8. 


n a fine afternoon in the month of 
May, Mary and Jane went out 
to take a short walk. As they 
strolled along, all nature appear- 
ed green and beautiful to the eye. They 
came to a narrow stream of water. 

“ Oh, dear me !” said Jane, “ how 
shall we cross this stream ?” 


“ Why,” said Mary, “ if we could get 
a long board, and put it across, we could 
get along in that manner.” 

While they stood thinking, there came 
a man leading a horse. 

“Pray, sir,” said Mary, “will you 
be so kind as to tell us how we shall get 
over this stream ?” 

“ Why, miss,” said he, “ if you would 
get on my horse, I would carry you 
over.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Mary. So 


156 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


he took them both on, one in front, and 
one behind. So when they reached the 
other side of the stream, they got off. 
He asked if they would be so kind as 
to tell him when they returned; he 
would meet them at the stream, and 
take them over again, he said. 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Mary, “ but 
we will take the other road. We are 
only now going a very short distance to 
yonder cottage. You can see part of 
the roof. The old woman is very sick, 
and we are going to give her these lem- 
ons and oranges we have in our basket, 
which will refresh her very much.” 

“ Why, miss,” said the man, “ that is 
my wife you are talking about. I have 
just been buying some medicine for 
her.” 

They walked along with the man, 
who led his horse by the bridle. When 
they reached the cottage, they found 
the old woman sitting up. They asked 
her how she felt. She said she felt a 
little better. 

“ Please to take a seat.” 

Jane then took the lemons and oranges 
from her basket, and laid them on the 
table for the sick woman. 

May my little readers copy after 
Jane and Mary in their kindness to the 
sick. 


A Remedy for War. 

ks. Lydia M. Child has lately 
written several letters from 
New York to the Boston Cou- 
rier, about matters and things 
in general, in one of which, in speaking 
of the follies and evils of war, she re- 
lates the following anecdote, the princi- 
ples of which need only to be universally 


observed, to put a final stop to the rava- 
ges and desolations of war. 

I have read of a certain regimen 
ordered to march into a small town, (in 
the Tyrol, I think,) and take it. It 
chanced that the place was settled by a 
colony who believed the gospel of Christy 
and proved their faith by works. A 
courier from a neighboring village in- 
formed them that the troops were advan- 
cing to take the town. They quietly 
answered, “if they will take it, they 
must.” Soldiers soon came riding in, 
with flying colors, and fifes piping their 
shrill defiance. They looked round 
for an enemy, and saw the farmer at 
his plough, the blacksmith at his anvil, 
and women at their churns and spinning 
wheels. Babies crowded to hear the 
music, and boys ran out to see the 
pretty trainers, with feathers and bright 
buttons, “the harlequins of the nine- 
teenth century.” Of course none of 
these were in a proper position to be 
shot at. 

“Where are your soldiers?” they 
asked. 

“ We have none,” was the brief reply. 

“ But we have come to take the town.” 

“Well, friends, it lies before you.” 

“ But is there nobody here to fight ?” 

“ No ; we are all Christians/’ 

Here was an emergency altogether 
unprovided for by the military schools. 
This was a sort of resistance which nc 
bullet could hit; a fortress perfectly 
bomb-proof. The commander was per- 
plexed. 

“ If there is nobody to fight with, of 
course we cannot fight,” said he. “It 
is impossible to take such a town as 
this.” So he ordered the horses’ heads 
to be turned about. 



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157 



Hunting. 


^his is a very ancient sport, as well 
as ©ne of the earliest employments 
of mankind. It has furnished 
the rude savage with his meat, 
and occupied the pastime of kings. As 
a sport, it affords many incentives to 
skill and exertion, while it partakes, in 
too great a degree, of the element of 
cruelty. As seen in the picture, the 
poor fox excites all our sympathies. 
Though he has proved himself so often 
a sly rogue, we conceive a sort of inte- 
rest that he should elude the scent of 
the hounds and the guns of the sports- 
men who press so hard after him. Alas, 
poor fellow! what chance is there for 
him! He is like a poor scape-grace 
from the pursuing indignation of some 
offended village. There is none to ex- 
plain his conduct, or to apologize for his 
frailties. There is much of desperate 
purpose and energy depicted in the 
hounds and their galloping followers. 


We can, for the moment, imagine that 
we hear their deep baying commingled 
with the tramping of horses and the 
shrill horn of the hunters ringing through 
the forest with mingled and strange 
echoes. But when we perceive that all 
this confusion, like the noise of a battle- 
field, is excited in chasing a poor little 
fox to death, the enchantment of the 
scene is dissipated, and the sport of 
hunting appears to be very tame and 
ridiculous, not to say revolting, to the 
better feelings of our hearts. 

In Great Britain this sport has usually 
been confined to kings and nobles. Cruel 
and arbitrary laws have been enacted 
against those who, by accident or design, 
killed or destroyed game without a li- 
cense from the king, or those intrusted 
with the care of his forests. 

So cruelly have these laws been exe- 
cuted, that even poor women and child- 
ren have been severely punished for 


158 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


taking a few bird’s eggs from some 
hedge, when, for this same hedge, they 
paid rent and tithes to their lord and the 
clergyman of the parish. 

Large tracts of some of the richest 
lands in the kingdom have been seques- 
tered or appropriated as royal deer- 
parks and hunting forests. It seems to 
us, in this country, republicans as we 
are, that this is very bad policy. Since 
the increase of population has ceased to 
be cut off by the drains of foreign wars, 
and emigration to her distant colonies, 
the folly and wickedness of such an ap- 
propriation of the soil must be apparent 
to every one who will think of the mat- 
ter candidly. Famine* with his dark 
visage, has walked in the trail of the 
hunters, and whispered in tones deep 
and awful, and the nobles of England 
are beginning to see the danger of op- 
pressing the poor to pamper the rich. 
The wail of famishing millions has bro- 
ken in on the quiet of Windsor forest, 
and haunted the night dreams of royalty 
in Buckingham palace. The two houses 
of parliament have rocked from their 
old foundations at the fearful cry, and 
the decree has been written in the pur- 
pose of the British ministry, that man’s 
primitive right to eat bread by the sweat 
of his brow, and to appropriate the soil 
for the support of human life, shall 
again be restored. It has been decreed 
that the famine in Ireland is one of 
those severe visitations which justify the 
government in assuming control over 
the unjust and unreasonable land-own- 
ers, which have come down from former 
generations, so far as to commend their 
appropriations to the production of food 
to provide against the future necessities 
of the people. 


Nunnery of the Hotel Dleu. 

BT THEODORE THINKER. 

summers ago, I visited the 
f il l Black Nunnery, or the Nunnery 
M of the Hotel JDieu, at Montreal. 

The account of my visit, which I 
then published in a very excellent peri- 
odical in this city, may be interesting 
to my young readers of the Cabinet. 
It is slightly altered for their benefit. 
This is the nunnery long notorious as 
the scene of Maria Monk’s disclosures. 
The impression, I think, now, among all 
candid Protestants, who have taken the 
trouble to inform themselves in respect 
to this matter, is, that this nun is an 
impostor ; and that though she may 
have told the truth in some instances, 
her statements cannot be relied upon 
implicitly. Such is the opinion almost 
universally among the Protestants of 
Montreal. But be that as it may, the 
enlightened Christian of the nineteenth 
century needs not the evidence that 
these institutions are, as a class, schools 
of vice; and that the Black Nunnery 
of Montreal should be an exception, is 
not, to say the least^ a very plausible 
supposition. I for one want much more 
proof than that which the lamented 
William L. Stone furnished, (which, by 
the way, was only negative,) to convince 
me that the Hotel Dieu is in every 
respect a proper place for the education 
of young females. As often as I think 
of that exhibition ostensibly of the whole 
interior of the convent to this gentleman, 
which was so satisfactory to him and 
others, I am reminded of M. Maelzel’s 
manner of exhibiting his famous automa- 
ton chess-player. Really, according to 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


159 


the Colonel’s account of the Hotel Dieu, 
there is a striking similarity in the two 
exhibitions. It is a long time since I 
saw a game played by this automaton 
Turk ; but I well remember the artifice 
of the ingenious Maelzel to convince us 
that there was no man — no living, 
breathing specimen of flesh and blood, 
to guide the fingers of the Turkish 
figure. First, one door of a large box 
on which the automaton reclined, was 
opened, and a lamp placed inside. You 
saw nothing but machinery. Then 
another was thrown open, and again it 
was clear that there was nothing to be 
seen but a collection of cylinders and 
cog wheels, essential to the working of 
the automaton, of course. Four doors 
were thus successively opened, and the 
some result followed. Hence the idea 
t'nat there was a man inside of the old 
Turk’s trunk, who actually moved his 
fingers, was preposterous. Now let 
who will believe otherwise, I cannot 
help thinking there are chess players at 
the Black Nunnery in Montreal. 

But of this no more. In company with 
a clerical friend, more a stranger in the 
city than myself, I rang the bell of the 
nunnery early in the morning, and we 
were soon admitted. There were but 
few of the nuns visible. One who 
might have been a porter, a woman 
somewhat past the meridian of life, met 
us, and accosted us in French. I never 
understood French well, and the little 
knowledge I have is rather rusty, and 
my friend was no better off. So we 
made haste slowly for a while, in the 
communication of our wishes to be 
shown the interior of the institution. 
At length, however, we were introduced 
to a young lady whose tongue had been 


taught to discourse a little English, and 
as soon as she was informed of the 
object of our visit, she very politely 
offered to .escort us through the nunnery, 
or rather, through that part of it which 
heretics, such as we, were allowed to 
see. 

I must say a good word for the polite- 
ness of this sister Agatha. She acted 
the part of a cicerone to perfection 
The dress of the nuns of this order is 
black. Hence their name. There is 
a black gown of coarse bombazine, or 
some similar fabric, and a hood fitting 
close to the head, with a very curious 
cape reaching about half way down. 
This, with a crucifix suspended from the 
neck, is mainly the attire of a nun of 
the Hotel Dieu. You must know that 
a nunnery is a charitable institution; 
and if you don’t know, and ever visit 
one, the inmates will take good care 
that you learn the fact before you leave. 
We were shown into room after room 
occupied by invalids, some but slightly 
ill, others apparently near the hour of 
death. My attention was directed to 
the circumstance that over each bed in 
these sick rooms was the name of some 
saint, as St. Ursule, St. Antoine, Notre 
Dame, etc. On application to our guide 
for a solution of this enigma, she in- 
formed us that these were patron saints 
of the invalids. As soon as there is a 
vacancy from recovery or death, in any 
of these situations, there are scores 
generally ready to secure it, let the 
particular saint who has a place at 
disposal, be who she may ; but that 
saint is to be especially invoked for his 
or her temporal or spiritual well-being 
or well-becoming. Our guide informed 
us, moreover, that the objects of then 


100 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


charity were not Catholics alone, but 
that all the recommendation a person 
needed in order to insure the benefits 
of the institution was to be sick, and 
the more sick the greater the recom- 
mendation. Very like. 

Through a window opening from one 
of the rooms appropriated for the inva- 
lids, we were shown the interior of the 
chapel. We were not permitted to 
enter ; probably it is too sacred for the 
feet of the uninitiated. The Virgin 
occupied a very prominent place. In- 
deed, I have often noticed that while 
Romanists ascribe to Christ thousands, 
they seem to give tens of thousands to 
the Holy Mother. 

It is difficult to give the account of 
such an absurd system seriously, and 
yet it is a serious subject; and ever 
since my visit to the Hotel Dieu, my 
heart has bled for those sisters whenever 
I have thought of them. Shut out from 
God’s own beautiful world, never allow- 
ed to gaze upon the charms of nature ; 
their minds darkened; their imagina- 
tions depraved ; their hearts corrupted ; 
they need our sympathies, though they 
ask them not. Sadly and silently we 
left the gates of the Hotel Dieu, and as 
I mingled with the world again, I re- 
solved that I would remember more 
frequently and devoutly the wretched 
votaries of superstition whom I had left 
behind. 


“ A donkey carrying a load of 
books,” said Amru, the conqueror of 
Egypt, “ is as respectable an animal 
as the person whose head is crammed 
with learning that he does not under- 
stand.” 


Hymn for a Sunday School. 

BY REV. E. F. HATFIELD. 

Blessed Jesus, children’s friend! 

To our worship condescend : 

In thy name we meet to-day — 

Hear us when we praise and pray. 

n. 

Thou didst once reside on earth, 

Meek, and of a lowly birth ; 

Thou wert once a little child, 

Holy, harmless, undefiled. 

nr. 

Like thyself may we obey, 

Minding what our parents say, 

Striving how to please them best, 
Making all around us blest. 

IV. 

Wiser, holier, may we grow, 

Loved by all above, below; 

Busied, like our blessed Lord, 

With our F ather’s work and word. 

v. 

Little children Thou dost love, 

Though enthroned in heaven above ; 
When to thee they once were brought, 
Thou did’st say, — “ Forbid them not !” 

VI. 

Gracious words! — how sweet they be' — 
“ Suffer them to come to me ; 

“ Little ones delight me much, 

“ Heaven itself consists of such.” 

VII. 

Jesus, Lord ! receive us thus, 

Lay thy blessed hand on us ; 

Take away our hearts of stone, 

Give us hearts of flesh alone. 

VIII. 

Wash our many sins away, 

Keep us clean from day to day • 

While we live may we be thine 
Then in glory may we shine. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


16 1 


Garden Flowers. 

ittle girls, do not forget to plant 
the seeds of the flowers that smell 
so sweetly in the garden. Let 
us see. Which among the annu- 
als are prettiest? That is a difficult 
question to answer, and we could 
almost fancy some of the modest little 


creatures would be jealous, if we could 
answer it. But there are some you 
should have by all means. Do not 
neglect the Pink, the Variegated Pink. 
It is desirable aside from its beauty. 
It blooms early in the spring, and con- 
tinues in bloom after the frosts of Au- 
tumn have withered its sisters. Then 
you should obtain the Morning Glory, 




THE PETUNIA. 


the Cypress ' Vine, the Mignonette, the 
Madeira Vine, the Sweet Alyssum, 
and the Petunia. The last is very 
beautiful, and continues in flower a 
long time. Above is a picture of it. 
There are several varieties of it, with 
different colors, all pretty. There are 
a great many other flowers, too, which 
will well repay your attention. Take 
care you do not forget them. If we 
should happen into your garden during 


the summer, we should be very sorry 
to miss their sweet faces. Take care, 
too, that these flowers do not suffer from 
the encroachments of the weeds. Little 
boy l can’t you spare time enough from 
your play to help your sister weed the 
flower-beds ? What is the reason you 
cannot get up a little earlier in the 
morning, and spend half an hour before 
breakfast in the garden? Do so, and 
you will have a better appetite. 


lo2 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


THE VOICE OP DEATH. 

S ow closely are sunshine and 
storms, joys and sorrows, smiles 
and tears, intertwined in the life 
this side of the grave ! Hearts 
are bleeding to-day that were bounding 
with gladness yesterday ; and other 
hearts, that are now light and gay, will 
to-morrow be pining in anguish. The 
theatre of this world enacts but a drama 
of April. It is but a braiding, so to 
speak, of bright skies and frowning 
clouds. How often the mourners go 
about the streets ! Reader ! has God 
ever bidden you to weep sad tears over 
the grave of one you tenderly loved ? 
Have you ever felt, as the remains of 
that cherished one were slowly deposit- 
ed in the cold earth, that your fondest 
earthly hopes were buried? If you 
have, then can you weep with those 
that weep : — 

“ For to the soul that ever felt the sting 
Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing.” 

We had a sister — we had a sister — 
alas ! that tells the tale. We have no 
sister now. Heaven is dearer to us, for 
it has received the spirit of that cher- 
ished one; earth is more desolate, for 
it holds her ashes only. We have no 
sister now. We saw a slumber steal 
over her fair features — an unearthly, 
dreamless slumber — we could not call 
it death. Ere the grass was green 
above the chambers of the dead, ere the 
first flowers of spring unfolded, ere the 
robin’s notes were heard in the silent 
sanctuary, we laid her to rest. Gently 
we laid her where her mother has long 
been sleeping; and there, by the side 


of the streamlet where we used to play 
in the sunny days of childhood, there is 
now the form of her we so tenderly 
loved, and whose memory we so fondly 
cherish. 

But we ought scarcely to bring our 
grief, unbidden, into the breasts of our 
friends, still less ought we to dwell 
upon the theme when admitted there. 
We alluded to this painful topic more 
for the purpose of expressing our grati- 
tude, than to excite any new sympathy. 
For the many, many consoling words 
which have been spoken by present 
friends, and written by absent ones, we 
are sincerely grateful. Some drops 
from the overflowing cup of grief have 
thus been removed by those who love 
us. We thank them cordially, but we 
thank God more. There are springs 
of comfort which he has opened, that 
the sandy desert of this world can never 
yield. 

We are indebted to a lady, less ac- 
quainted with us, personally, than with 
our efforts for the little folks, for a bou- 
quet composed of a great variety of the 
choicest and most beautiful flowers. 
Well, the road which the poor editor 
has to travel, though a weary one, and 
a little cold and dusty sometimes, is not 
so very bad, after all. This kind to- 
ken of friendship — this generous mark 
of approbation — more than compensates 
for a score of complaints. And the 
bouquet is such a bountiful one, too. 
It is the richest thing, in its way, which 
has ever made our acquaintance in a 
similar manner; and there are some 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


163 


pretty verses accompanying it — which 
are worth reciting at the editor’s table. 
They run thus : 

. LINES TO THE EDITOR. 

The sweetest flowers of early spring, 

I’ve culled for you to-day ; 

’Tis friendship’s offering that I bring — 
Accept the gift — my sweet bouquet. 

While through life’s thorny path you rove, 
May flowers still blossom on your way ; 

But may your happiness ne’er prove 
As fading as my sweet bouquet. 

I called upon the fairy Nine, 

To aid me with this simple lay ; 

They all refus’d, unless I’d twine 
A wreath for them from your bouquet. 

I left them, then, the surly maids, 

Alone to find my crooked way. 

The fairest flower soonest fades ; 

So quickly take my sweet bouquet. 


We came very near committing a 
blunder the other day, which would 
have been ludicrous enough. We dis- 
covered a little article headed, “Sing- 
ing in the Family,” snugly stowed away 
in one of those depositories of all kinds 
of lumber, the miscellany of a country 
newspaper. We liked the caption pret- 
ty well, and made up our mind to trans- 
fer the little thing to our own pages. 
Our scissors were in the act of clipping 
it, when we glanced at a sentence or 
two. It seemed familiar, and, upon a 
closer inspection, we found it was one 
of our own articles, copied without cre- 
dit, and robbed of its collar and wrist- 
bands, so that we did not recognize it ! 
Since then, we have seen this fellow in 
the same dress, making a tour in three 
papers in this city, and more than twice 
that number in the country. He is 
getting to be quite a traveler — and that 


is all very well ; but, friend editor l 
pray spare the ear-marks — an’ thou 
lovest us, spare them — if thou wilt, we 
will promise to keep quiet about the 
pilfering. But we do want to know 
our own articles, when we see them 
going the rounds, whether anybody else 
knows them or not. 


The Hutchinson Family, some few 
weeks since, gave their farewell concert 
at the Tabernacle, and have now re- 
turned to the “Old Granite State.” 
They were, if possible, more popular in 
this city during the winter than ever 
before. Their music is, perhaps, better 
appreciated, and more admired by all 
classes of society, than that of any other 
vocalists; and it is cheering to think 
that they have earned their popularity 
without the expense of principle, in the 
least degree. The moral and social 
influence of their songs is one of the 
happiest features connected with their 
concerts. 

By the way, very handsome litho- 
graphic likenesses of these singers have 
been published by J. Britton, of this 
city, in separate vignettes on one sheet. 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

We have received several communi- 
cations, which we have not had time 
to examine. Among them are, The 
Blind Fiddler, Disappointment, Our 
First Blue Bird, and The Poor Orphan 
Child. 

Several articles are accepted, which 
will appear when we can find a place 
for them. In this catalogue are, The 
Little Star Gazer — beautiful, very beau- 


164 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


tiful — The Brook and the Bubbles, The 
Motto, The Editor’s Dark Pigeon-hole, 
Autobiography of a Rain-drop, and The 
Dying Child’s Vision of Heaven. 

The following articles we are obliged 
reluctantly to decline : Lines on the 
Death of a Friend, Pleasures of Child- 
hood, and The Time has Come. 

A. LETTER PROM THE SCHOOL GIRLS. 

M r . Editor, — In the Y outh ’s Cabinet 
for March, you expressed a wish that 
correspondents in different parts of the 
country would give you sketches of life 
in the section in which they reside. 
Now we, a group of School Girls, rang- 
ing from two to sixteen years of age, 
will endeavor to comply with your re- 
quest, by attempting to give you a faint 
picture of the vicinity of Lewisberry, 
in which we reside. 

Lewisberry is situated in a pleasant 
valley in the upper end of York county, 
Pennsylvania, in the fortieth degree 
of latitude, and consists of about sixty 
dwellings, besides stores and shops, 
with two churches fn the vicinity, the 
one belonging to the Methodists, and 
the other to the Lutherans. The 
society of Friends have also a meeting- 
house near the lower end of the valley. 
A stream of water, which turns three 
or four grist mills, winds gracefully 
through the valley. The face of the 
country is somewhat rolling, or hilly, 
with meadows, fields, and woodlands 
alternating. In the spring ^of the year 
the white blossoms of the dogwood, with 
the lilac-colored ones of the red-bud, 
give to the forests a beautiful and varie- 
gated appearance. 

About two miles distant, from Lewis- 


berry, in the forest, stands what is call- 
ed the “Indian Mill.” It consisls of 
two rocks, the nether one being concave 
on the upper side, and the upper one, 
which is round or globular, lies in this 
concavity, or upper surface of the under 
one, and is so nicely balanced, that 
though one man can roll or move it, yet 
half a dozen would not be able to dis- 
place it. We do not, however, suppose 
that the Indians ever used it for grind- 
ing their corn. 

Another thing which strikes us as 
being a little curious, is two Sycamore 
trees standing upon opposite sides of the 
little stream, before mentioned, which 
have been engrafted together, forming 
a complete arch across the stream. 

Although we style ourselves school 
girls, yet it is only in winter we can 
have time to attend the school, as in 
summer we have to assist our mothers 
in the various occupations of, rural life, 
such as washing, ironing, baking, and 
gardening ; though, by way of recrea- 
tion, we are sometimes permitted to 
meet together, and take excursions to 
the fields and woods in search of amuse- 
ment ; and we enjoy these rambles very 
much, as they are not only a source of 
pleasure, but are conducive to health, 
and have a tendency to unite us more 
closely in the bonds of friendship. 

And now we come to speak of the 
Youth’s Cabinet, which some of our 
parents have procured for us. We 
like it very well, but think we would 
like it still better if you would give us 
more of Natural History and Botany 
in its pages. However, we do not wish 
to dictate, but would say, in conclusion, 
that if you think this our first attempt at 
essaying, possesses any merit, you may 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


165 


publish it — if not, you are welcome to 
commit it to the flames. And if you, 
Mr. Editor, should ever pass this way, 
please to call on the “Social Group,” 
and we will endeavor to make your visit 
a pleasant one. Yours, etc. 

Newpars School, Pa., April, 1847. 

We think it quite probable that many 
of our subscribers failed to receive 
their April number, until the month 
was somewhat advanced. If so, they 
must not blame us. We were ready 
with our usual promptness, but from a 
deficiency of mail-bags in our city post- 
office, great multitudes of magazines 
and periodicals were delayed nearly 
two weeks. In this stack of literature, 
unfortunately, our magazine for April 
found a resting-place. 

A FRENCH AFFAIR OF HONOR. 

Alexander Dumas, a member of 
the French Chamber of Deputies, re- 
cently sent a challenge to the Marquis 
de Maleville, for words spoken in de- 
bate on the floor of the chamber. The 
messenger who bore the challenge was 
M. Yiennet, a mutual friend of the par- 
ties. The Marquis de Maleville seems 
not to have been very deeply in love 
with certain chivalrous notions which 
are so current among many gentlemen 
in France, as well as some in America, 
and he returned the following answer 
to the challenge : — “ Sir, I thank you 
for having afforded me the opportunity 
of seeing the agreeable and excellent 
M. Yiennet. As to the proposal which 
you are good enough to make to cut 
my throat, I am chagrined beyond 
measure at not being able to accept it.” 


Would it not be wise for some of our 
members of Congress to save a copy of 
this reply for future use ? Unless we 
are greatly mistaken, they may get a 
valuable hint from it ; and perhaps it 
is as honorable to answer a challenge 
in this way, as it would be to blow a 
man’s brains out with a musket. 


ANSWER TO THE LAST ENIGMA. 

Botany is a most interesting study. 
Ebro is the name of a river in Europe. 
Sin is the cause or occasion of all evil. 
Daniel was one of the prophets. The 
Rhine is a river in Europe. Tyre was 
a celebrated city. Paradise is the home 
of the pure in heart. Ural is the name 
of a chain of mountains in Europe. 
Isaiah was one of the prophets. Happi- 
ness is the pursuit of all mankind, and 
I may add that the most sure way of 
finding it is in the path of duty. I 
should add, too, if the author of the 
enigma had not suggested it, that truth 
is essential to a happy life. Fear is a 
Cape in North America. Youth is the 
spring-time of life. Georgia is one of 
the United States. Darius was a Per- 
sian king. “Blessed are the pure in 
heart, for they shall see God,” is a most 
tender and comforting promise of the 
Savior. 


CHARADE. 

My first is a very significant abbre- 
viation, more used in commercial lan- 
guage than elsewhere. 

My second is a veiled sacrifice in the 
Romish church. 

My third is an organ in the human 
frame, and its music is heard in Mexico 

My whole is the puzzle of wits. a. 


166 


TIIE YOUTH’S CABINET, 


The Song of the Zephyrs. 

FOR VERY LITTLE CHILDREN. 


COPIED, BY PERMISSION OP THE PUBLISHERS, PROM BRADBURY'S FLORA'S FESTIVAL. 

(DCT it 


& & * „ 

air we bound, Kissing every 



~^rf — rr! r 
O ^ r r r f~cl: 




Pret - ty little 

& 


zephyrs we, Singing, singing mer - ri • ly, Pretty lit - tie zephyrs we 

,T»- • . * 0 ?- 



2. How we love the budding flowers, 

Tossing round their pretty heads, 
Let us play around your bowers, 
Breathing on your grassy beds. 

3. ^Welcome, welcome, zephyrs light, 

Welcome to our feast of flowers ; 
Smiling ever with delight, 

Welcome to our fairy bowers. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


167 


Old Jack, the Favorite Horse. 


BY THEODORE THINKER 



y father had a horse, 
when I was a little 
boy, that was quite 
a pet with the whole 
family. We called 
him Jack, and he knew his 
name as well as I did. The 
biography of the old veteran 
would be very interesting, I 
am sure, if any body were to 
write it. I do not mean to be his 
biographer, however, though my par- 
tiality for him will be a sufficient 
apology for a slight sketch. 

Old Jack was a very intelligent 
horse. He would always come when 
he heard his name called, let him be 
ever so far distant in the pasture ; that 
is, if he had a mind to come. Of 
course, being a gentleman of discern- 
ment, he sometimes chose to stay where 
he was, and enjoy his walk. This was 
especially the case when the grass was 
very green, and when the person who 
came for him chanced to be a little 
green also. Jack had his faults, it 
cannot be denied, and among them, 
perhaps, the most prominent was a 
strong aversion to being caught by any 
body but my father, whom he seemed 
to regard as having the sole right to 
summon him from the pasture. I used 
occasionally to try my hand at catching 
him. In fact, I succeeded several 
times, by stratagem only. I carried a 
measure containing a few gills of oats 
with me into the field, and his love for 
oats was so much stronger than his 
dislike of the catching process, that I 
Vol. II. 6 


secured him. But after a while the 
old fellow became too cunning for me. 
He came to the conclusion that the 
quantity of his favorite dish was too 
small to warrant him in sacrificing his 
freedom. He had some knowledge of 
arithmetic, you see. Certainly he must 
have cyphered as far as loss and gain. 
One day I went into the pasture with 
my bridle concealed behind me, and 
just about enough oats to cover the 
bottom of my measure, and advanced 
carefully toward the spot were old Jack 
was quietly grazing in the meadow. 
He did not stir as I approached. 
He held up his head a little, and 
seemed to be thinking what it was best 
to do. I drew nearer, encouraged, of 
course. The cunning fellow let me 
come within a few feet of him, and 
then suddenly wheeled around, threw 
his heels into the air, a great deal toe 
near my head, and then started off at 
full gallop, snorting his delight at the 
fun, and seeming to say, “I am not 
quite so great a fool as you suppose.” 

Still old Jack was kind and gentle. 
My father never had any trouble with 
him, and many a long mile have I rode 
after him, when he went over the 
ground like a bird. I loved him, with 
all his faults, I loved him dearly, and 
when he was sold, we all had a long 
crying spell about it. I remember the 
time well, when the man who pur- 
chased our old pet came to take him 
away. I presume the man was kind 
enough, but really I never could for- 
give him for buying the horse. He 


168 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



PARTING WITH OLD JACX. 


was rather a rough-looking man, and 
he .aughed a good deal when we told 
him he must be good to Jack, and give 
him plenty of oats, and not makfc him 
work too hard. I went out, with my 
sister, to bid our old friend, a last sad 
good bye. We carried him some green 
grass— we knew how well he loved 
grass, he had given us proof enough 
of that — and while he was eating it, 
and the man was preparing to take him 
away, we talked with old Jack with 
tears in our eyes; we told him how 
-sorry we were to part with him; and 
he seemed to be sad too, for he stopped 
eating his grass, and looked at us ten- 
derly, while we put our arms around his 
■neck and caressed him for the last time. 

I have had a great many pets since — 


cats and dogs, squirrels and rabbits 
canary birds and parrots — but never 
any that I loved more than I did old 
Jack; and to this day I am ashamed 
of the deception I practised upon him 
in the matter of the oats, when trying 
to catch him. I don’t wonder he 
resented the trick, and played one on 
me in return. 


“ There is nothing more certain than 
death, nothing more uncertain than the 
time of dying. I will therefore be 
prepared for that, at all times, which 
may come at any time, and must come 
at some time. I shall not hasten my 
death by being ready for it, but may 
sweeten it.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


169 


Caroline’s Story and Dream.* 

BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR. 

S have at times found it difficult to 
determine whether my enjoyment 
was greater in my sleeping or 
waking hours. Not a dear friend 
have I loved — not a pleasant moment 
enjoyed, that has not again been revived 
in the hour of sleep. When I retired 
to rest, after the visit of which I have 
told my young friends, the moment that 
drowsiness had taken possession of me, 
I felt myself gently wafted along upon 
the water. Not a breath of wind 
seemed stirring, and everything seemed 
resting in loveliness. The sun was 
shining brightly; but his light seemed 
to have been mellowed, so as to be 
pleasant to the eye. We passed along 
by banks where the grass looked like 
the softest velvet, sprinkled with violets. 
The little vessel I was in was so ele- 
gant, I am afraid I cannot describe it to 
you well. You may have read about 
one that belonged to a beautiful, but 
wicked queen, called Cleopatra. This 
was more perfect than that. The body 
of it was pearl, ornamented with groups 
of flowers ; men and animals were pic- 
tured with wreaths of roses, lilies, and 
other flowers — the whole composed of 
rubies, amethysts, emeralds, and other 
precious gems. The oars, spars, and 
seats, were of gold, beautifully chased. 
When the sun fell upon the boat, you 
saw reflected the most dazzling colors. 
What is called the figure-head, was 
the image of a little child, wrought in 
alabaster, so life-like, it seemed to have 
closed its eyes but an instant, from 

* Continued from page 146. 


weariness. The sails of my boat were 
of so delicate texture, that they seemed 
of fairy workmanship ; and I am sure 
none but such tiny weavers could have 
made them. 

Do you know, children, what fairies 
were ? I will tell you, for fear you do 
not, though there was something about 
them in a recect number of the Cabinet. 
People in olden times thought there 
were little busy-bodies — some good and 
some very bad — that lived every where, 
under leaves and in flowers — even in 
the tiny cups of the blue hare-bell. 
They could say and do for or against 
people whatever they chose. They 
were so small that they could have 
dancing parties under mushrooms ; and 
one person relates that he once saw a 
fairies’ funeral, and the body was 
wrapped in a rose-leaf. Some pretty 
stories are told about these little people, 
but I am afraid they are not true ones, 
however. But I must not forget to tell 
you about my boat. 

There were beautiful little seats, 
covered with crimson velvet, for me to 
rest upon, and the air was filled with 
sweet music. I did not at first know 
who the minstrels were ; but they 
soon appeared. My little sailors came 
from their hiding-places. They were 
little boys with laughing eyes, dressed 
in white ; holding their harps, upon 
which they played soft airs, accompa- 
nied by their voices, full of melody. 

I closed my eyes, and cared not to 
open them again ; while they sang to 
me sweet songs of the bright land to 
which we were going. When they 
had finished, a sweet voice whispered 
in my ear, “ Lady, see our home.” I 
opened my eyes, and soon stepped 


170 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


ashore upon a land which seemed a 
mimic paradise. We passed along 
under trees bending with golden fruits — 
oranges, lemons, pomegranates, and 
others which I never had seen before. 
From bough to bough, hung vines 
which swung to and fro in a gentle 
breeze, rocking the thousands of birds 
who seemed vieing with each other in 
making sweet sounds. 

On we went, till we came to a little 
gate, which flew open at our touch. 
Then we saw for whom all these 
lovely things were made. I had heard 
the voices of children, and we now saw 
them. Under a canopy of flowers and 
vines, loaded with luscious fruit, were 
a party of dancers, their feet scarcely 
touching the carpet of moss beneath 
them. My little sailors were welcomed 
with caresses. At a little distance 
another group were crowning, with a 
coral coronet, one of their number, 
while their companions near were pre- 
paring a dainty feast with which to 
celebrate the event. 

All were happy ; even the smallest 
were decking each other with garlands, 
and seemed to think it a pleasant thing 
to love and be loved. Now and then, 
as a cooling breeze swept among the 
trees, little silver bells hanging among 
the branches would sound sweetly upon 
the ear. 

While I was enjoying this delightful 
scene, one appeared among them whom 
all seemed to recognize, although I 
could not tell from whence she came. 
Her face was as beautiful as those of 
the children of whom I have told you, 
except that it was disfigured by anger 
and envy. She began to tear down the 
festoons from the trees, and to snatch 


the garlands from the little ones. She 
dashed the crown of their queen upon 
the ground, and overturned the table 
from which some of them were feasting. 

At first her companions tried not to 
notice her unkindness ; but it was in 
vain. The music grew fainter, and 
finally ceased ; the song died away ; 
the dancers stood silent and sad ; and 
even the sunshine seemed less pleasant. 
As the one who caused this change 
continued her unkindness, those who 
had but a short time before made the 
place vocal with gladness, buried their 
faces with their hands, and wept. A 
slight noise, caused by some new act 
of mischief, waked me. I recalled the 
faces of those I had seen in my dream, 
and recognised them as those of the 
children with whom I had played 
during the evening. Even the face of 
the figure-head on my boat was that of 
little Alice D . 

I thought I would tell you this story, 
dear children, that you might see how 
the ill temper of one person spoiled the 
comfort of so many. I hope you will 
think of the story, and particularly the 
dream, whenever you are tempted to 
do anything that may make those 
around less happy. If I have used 
any words you do not understand, you 
must get some friend to explain them. 
I should have explained them myself, 
but I was afraid I might tire you if I 
.wrote too long a story. 


“Many,” says Newton, “have puz- 
zled themselves about the origin of 
evil. I observe there is evil, and 
that there is a way to escape it; and 
with this I begin and end.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


171 


To Lavinia, in Heaven. 

Spirit from yon pearly skies, 

Whither dost thou roam? 

With those soft and pleading eyes, 
Wherefore hast thou come ? 

Is it upward thou wouldst call us, 

Is there aught that may befall us, 
Breathing with a magic spell, 

Thou in dreams art come to tell ? 

Gentle spirit, say. 

Sainted one, we weep for thee, 

Though thy home is fair ; 

And our hearts will lonely be, 

Till we meet thee there. 

Was there naught thy love had cherished, 

Had thy dearest ones all perished, 

That the summons thou couldst meet, 
With a smile in death so sweet ? 

Gentle spirit, say. 

Spirit with the golden lyre, 

Touch those cords again. 

Thou hast joined the heavenly choir, 

Free from toil and pain. 

Strike once more those notes of gladness, 

Chase away our gloom and sadness. 

Tell us on yon flowery plain, 

We shall meet in peace again. 

Gentle spirit, tell. 

D. A. J. 


A Musical Ghost. 

S n the end of summer, a family 
residing a few miles from Aber- 
deen, Scotland, and at the time, 
consisting of females, were thrown 
for one or two successive nights into 
no small consternation, by the un- 
accountable circumstance of a piano 
being set a strumming about midnight, 
after all the inmates of the house were 
in bed. The first night the lady of the 
house rose when she heard the un- 


seasonable sounds, thinking some mem- 
ber of the family had set about “ prac- 
tising her music” over night. She 
went cautiously to the room door, 
which she found shut; but although 
she heard the tones of the instrument 
when her hand was upon the handle of 
the door, on entering she was aston- 
ished to find no one in the room. The 
piano was indeed open — as it was 
generally — for a young girl to practice 
when she had a mind. But where was 
the midnight musician ? The room 
was searched, but to no purpose — there 
was no musician visible. Next night 
the same sounds were heard, and a 
search was made, but with no better 
success. 

One or two nights of quietude might 
intervene between those on which 
such sounds were heard ; but they still 
broke at intervals through the stillness 
of midnight — at one time with note by 
note slowly, — at another, like the quick 
loud thundering of a battle-piece ; till 
the horrible conviction filled every 
mind, that the house was haunted. 
Now, although a musical ghost was 
perhaps preferable to one with clanking 
chains, a hideous gash in his throat, or 
any thing of the ghastly contingents 
usually ascribed to the fraternity, yet 
still — even at the best — a nocturnal 
visitor of the kind could have been 
very pleasantly dispensed with. 

One morning, the piano was heard 
sounding away much louder than 
usual ; and the dawn having begun to 
peep through the window-blinds, one or 
two of the family, summoning up the 
courage that comes with the light of day, 
resolved that, “ ghost, if ghost it were,” 
they should at all risks have a peep t 


172 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


it, and cautiously descended to the door 
of the apartment, which was slightly 
ajar. The musician was fingering the 
instrument with the greatest industry 
^and energy, and apparently at his own 
entire satisfaction. 

Well, after much demurring, in they 
peeped; and most assuredly, through 
the dim dusk of the morning, a gray 
figure was seen exerting itself most 
strenuously. They looked closer, when, 
behold, there was — what, think you ? — 
the cat, pawing away first with her 
fore feet, and then with her hind ; now 
touching one note gently, and then 
dancing with all fours across the keys. 
There was a solution of the enigma — a 
bringing to light of the imagined ghost. 
Aberdeen Herald . 


A Story for Little Children. 

I will tell you a story about a little 
boy. It is a pretty story. I have 
read it in the Bible. Once there 
was a basket found in the rushes 
by the side of a river. It was made 
tight, so that the water could not get 
into it. There were a number of 
women near, when the basket was 
found. One of them was a princess, 
and her father was the king of that 
country. When they looked into the 
basket, they saw there a little child. 
Strange, that any mother should leave 
her babe in such a place. I will tell 
you the reason she left him there. She 
was a Hebrew woman. The king of 
the country where the child was found, 
was wicked, and hated all the Hebrew 
people. He hated them so much, that 
he gave orders to have all their child- 


ren killed as soon as they were born. 
The mother of this babe put him in this 
basket, or ark, to save his life. She 
thought, I suppose, that somebody would 
come and have pity on him. And there 
was a friend of hers very near, to see 
what would become of the child. Well, 
the king’s daughter heard the babe cry, 
and she did pity him. The woman who 
was watching him, asked if she should 
not go and call a nurse for him. The 
princess said yes ; and the woman went 
and called his mother. So the child 
was saved, and lived many years, and 
the Lord made him a very great and 
useful man. The name of this child 
was Moses . — Theodore Thinker . 


The Fruit Woman of Normandy. 

|MJhe fruit women in Normandy, 
fJM France, are a very interesting 
jg| class of people. The engraving 
represents one of them, selling 
or trying to sell her articles of mer- 
chandise. Do you notice what a queer 
kind of dress she has on ? The 
peasantry or poor people do not dress 
the same in that country as they do 
here. This fruit woman has a hat or 
bonnet, which would be quite a curi- 
osity if seen on the head of any of our 
countrywomen. We wonder what fruit 
she has to sell. We cannot make out 
whether they are apples, peaches, or 
melons, can you ? Poor woman ! some- 
times people do not buy enough of her 
fruit to enable her to get food for her 
children, and then she has to resort to 
begging. There are a great many 
beggars in Normandy. A man who 
has traveled there, says, the beggars 



THE FRUIT WOMAN OF NORMANDY, 


f 






74 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


station themselves upon the side of 
every hill, and sometimes they let 
people know that they want money, by 
throwing a bouquet of flowers at them. 
They get a great deal of money, some- 
times, by flattery. They will address 
every lady as a princess, and every 
gentleman as a lord. Perhaps they 
will compliment them about their fine 
appearance. There is a great deal of 
power in flattery. 

But we must leave the poor old fruit 
woman, though we hope she will sell 
her fruit. She seems very patient, 
does she not? Now we think of it, 
children, did you ever notice the lame 
and decrepit old apple woman, who sits 
all day long on the steps of Stewart’s 
dry good store, in Broadway ? If you 
have not, she is worth going to see. 
But don’t go without carrying a penny 
or two along. Buy one of her apples, 
too. There is nothing you can do 
which will be more likely to bring a 
smile upon her wrinkled brow ; and it 
is pleasant to see such a person smile. 
Do not forget the poor and the dis- 
tressed. A little money, often a kind 
word, when you have nothing else to 
give, will often cheer and gladden their 
hearts. 


The First Bluebird. 

BY PROF. J. ALDEN. 

& s Francis Hale jvas on his way 
home from school one evening, 
in the latter part of March, he 
heard the sweet note of the blue- 
bird, and looking up, he saw the stranger 
that uttered it, sitting on one of the 


branches of a maple tree. The sound 
and the sight rejoiced his young heart. 
For several long months he had looked 
on the leafless forests and snow-covered 
hills, and heard the roar of the winter 
wind. Now he saw a sign of life, he 
heard the first voice of spring. Soon 
she would spread her robes on the trees 
and hill-sides, and cause her numerous 
musicians to give forth their varied har- 
monies. “Oh, you dear little fellow,” 
said he to the bird, as he stood and 
gazed on his beautiful blue coat, “ how 
glad I am to see you ! I wish you would 
go home with me, and let little sister 
see you.” 

Observe that the feeling of happiness 
had no sooner sprung up in his own 
heart, than he desired to share it with 
his little sister. This was habitual 
with him, and in consequence all his 
joys were nearly doubled. 

“What are you looking at?” said 
Hiram Fowler, as he came along and 
saw Francis standing still, and gazing 
at the bluebird, who sat still, as if 
aware of the admiration he had excited. 

“ A bluebird,” replied Francis, with 
a good deal of animation. 

“ Did you never see one before ?” 

“Not since last summer.” 

“ Not since last summer ! that isn’t 
a great while ago, and a bluebird is a 
bluebird wherever you see it, and it isn’t 
much of a bird after all.” 

Hiram had stopped while he made 
these remarks, and his eyes had natu- 
rally .followed the direction of Francis’, 
which continued fixed on the bird. Two 
boys who were at some distance, seeing 
them standing still and looking up into 
the tree, concluded there must be some 
curiosity there. So they came upon a 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


175 


run, and cried out as they drew near, 
“ What do you see ?” 

“A bluebird,” said Francis. 

“ Where is he V 9 

“ On that limb.” 

“ Oh, I see him. He won’t sit there 
long.” So saying he hurled a stone at 
the bird, before Francis saw what he 
intended to do. The bird looked at the 
stone as it passed him, and then down 
at the boys, as if he had said, “ I don’t 
quite understand what that was for,” and 
then hopped up on a higher bough. 
James Blanchard, for that was the boy’s 
name, began to gather some more stones 
to throw at him. 

“ Pon’t stone him,” said Francis. 

“ Why not 1 He don’t belong to you,” 
said James. 

“He belongs to the good Lord, and 
you have no right to hurt him.” 

“Let the Lord take care of him, 
then,” said the wicked boy, drawing 
back his arm, and preparing to throw. 
Francis seized his arm, and shouted 
with the purpose of frightening the 
bird. “ Shoo ! shoo ! he wants to kill 
you,” said he to the bird ; but the bird 
was either so wrapt up in the fancies 
of coming spring, that he did not hear 
him ; or, if he heard him, he did not un- 
derstand English. Probably the blue- 
bird’s language was the only one he had 
ever learned. James shook himself clear 
of Francis, for he was much the stronger 
of the two, and taking careful aim, he 
hit the poor bird, and brought him to 
the ground. The tears came to Francis’ 
eyes as James picked up the bird which 
a little while before was so full of life 
and joy. 

“Don’t cry,” said Hiram, “it’s no- 
thing but a bluebird, and .there will be 


plenty of them about in a few days. 
He isn ’t dead — is he ?” This question 
was addressed to James, as he drew 
near with the bird in his hand. The 
bird began to open his mouth, and to 
give signs of life. Pretty soon, he gave 
a cry of distress. “Let him go, do,” 
said Francis, “ he is alive.” 

“His leg is broken,” said James. 
“ He will make a good supper for the 
cat.” 

“ You had better kill him,” said 
Hiram, “and put him out of pain.” 

“ The cat had rather have a live bird 
than a dead one;” so saying he gave 
the bird a swing, which caused him 
again to scream with pain. Francis 
rushed upon James, and struck him 
with all his might. James dropped the 
bird, and began to fight back. Hiram 
soon interfered, and parted them; not 
because he thought it wrong for boys to 
fight, but because, as he said, they 
were not equally matched. He killed 
the bird to “ put him out of misery,” 
and the boys went their several ways. 

Francis felt very bad, and at first he 
thought it was wholly on account of his 
sympathy for the bird ; but ere long 
another feeling made itself distinctly 
felt. It was a feeling of guilt for 
having suffered his angry feelings to 
rise so high, and for having assaulted 
James. He tried to satisfy himself 
that his motives were good, that he had 
been influenced only by a proper sym- 
pathy for one of God’s innocent crea- 
tures; but he could not make it out 
that motives, good at the outset, could 
make a wrong act a right one. He said 
to himself that James deserved to be 
flogged, and that was a truth not to be 
disputed; still it was by no means 


176 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


clear that he had been commissioned to 
punish him. He concluded to tell the 
whole matter to his father, and see if 
he would not think he had done right. 
He did so. His father warmly approved 
his sympathy for the bird, but told him 
he had done wrong in resorting to 
force, under the circumstances of the 
case. 

, “ What is to be done with such boys, 

then ?” said Francis. 

“They must be left for punishment 
to those who have a rightful authority 
over them.” 

“ Suppose they won ’t punish them ?” 

“Then we must leave them to the 
Lord. ‘Vengeance is mine, I will 
repay, saith the Lord.’ Do you wish 
to se6 James punished?”’ 

“Yes, sir, I think he ought to be 
punished.” 

“Would you rather see him pun- 
ished for his fault, or see him penitent 
for it?” 

“ I would rather see him penitent — a 
great deal rather.” 

“ That is right ; do not forget to exer- 
cise penitence for your own fault in the 
matter.” 

"Williams College, May, 1847. 


Pride must have a Fall. 

f RiDE exhibits itself in very young 
persons, as well as older ones. 
My little sister feels it as strongly, 
when she struts about in her new 
and gaudy dress, as the rich lady does 
when she treads her soft carpet. But, 
alas! “pride must have a fall.” Nelly 
trips her foot, and slips down. Now 
her new dress is soiled and torn. The 


haughty lady, too, is perhaps in one 
week transferred to a humble dwelling, 
and the costly furniture passes into the 
hands of another. 

I recollect reading a story not long 
since, which illustrates the truth of the 
proverb, “ pride must have a fall :” A 
lady riding out one day in London, 
ordered her coachman to stop upon the 
cross-walk in front of one of the princi- 
pal shops. He did so, and she was 
about getting out, when several persons 
came along, and wished to cross the 
street where the carriage stood. They 
requested the coachman to drive along 
a little farther; but the haughty lady 
put her head out of the carriage and 
ordered him not to do so. While she 
was engaged purchasing some articles 
at the store, one of the individuals who 
wished to cross the street, opened the 
carriage door, and walked through it; 
another, and another followed, and 
when the lady came to get in, she 
found her splended carriige muddy 
and soiled, and was of course very 
angry. But years flew by, and that 
lady, by a sudden transition from pros- 
perity to adversity, was occupying a 
miserable dwelling in the vicinity of 
the place where she had exhibited so 
disobliging a disposition, and her child- 
ren were glad to earn a few pennies 
by sweeping that very cross-walk. 

Let all be warned by this story, and 
remember the truthful proverb, “ Pride 
must have a fall.” e. h. w. 


“ The fishes are mute, lest they 
should reveal the secrets of the great 
deep. Solomon knew them, and yet 
he died.” 


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177 


The Voice of Nature. 

f no has not delighted in the con- 
templation of nature, in the 
glories of a summer night ? 
The grove or wood, lawn and 
stream, and the wild rural hill, reflect 
the glories of an evening sky so 
charmingly, that one almost fancies 
that paradise derived its richest en- 
chantment from the lights and shadows 
of night. 


Who that goes out from the din, the 
smoke, and the dust of the city, to 
ramble at night-fall over meadows and 
fields, does not feel that nature has new 
charms, that never before fascinated his 
spirit? Yes; a new moon is hung in 
the sky, shedding a novel and strange 
brilliancy over all the landscape. The 
stars look down, as it were, through the 
dim twilight, and look up again from the 
face of the little lake at the bottom of the 
shadowy valley. What an hour, and 



THE SHEPHERD IN REPOSE. 


what scenes for meditation! Napoleon, 
infidel as he might have been, felt 
inspired with the natural instincts of 
the poet, in favor of God and religion, 
while walking with a friend one beauti- 
ful night, in one of the public squares 
or promenades of Paris. “Look up,” 
said he to his friend, “ and tell me who 
has spread out these beautiful heavens 
over us. There must be a God, and 
the people must have a religion !” 


The works of God have surely 
taught religion to man. We know 
that the wilds of nature have taugh 
the rude sojourners in the wilderness 
truths, which the refinements of infidel 
philosophy could never 'gainsay, nor 
the high-wrought bigotry of the schools 
illustrate or honor. The prophets of 
old sojourned in the wilderness, to 
gather the inspirations of their sublime 
ministrations. And shepherds, watch- 


178 


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ing their flocks by night on the moun- 
tains of the East, received the first 
intimations of the advent of the Savior. 
While speaking of shepherds, there is 
in this picture, a representation of con- 
fidence in God. 

The flocks are secured in their folds ; 
the tender care of their keepers have 
discharged their faithful trust. They 
are beyond the attacks of the prowling 
wolf. But who careth for their keeper ? 
They think not of danger to them- 
selves. Sitting down on the green 
turf, the head is pillowed on a mound 
of stones, under the open sky, and the 
thought of the howling wilderness is 
lost in dreams of peaceful rest — in 
confidence in God, so deeply cherished 
in the heart. Who would not wish 
thus to live in the confidence of 
Heaven’s protection ? Who would not 
delight to be above the fear of flood, 
and fire, and storms, nor be left to 
tremble at the howling wolf, or the 
roaring lion, or savage beasts of prey ? 
In obeying God, there is this confidence 
for the present time, and the hope of 
eternal peace in the world to come. 

J. M. S. 


Importance of Culinary Knowledge. 

f ouNG ladies now-a-days, seem to 
consider that the less they know 
of this important branch of 
housekeeping, the more accom- 
plished they are. But I think I can 
very easily show that they will bitterly 
repent their false and foolish ideas on 
this subject, when it becomes necessary 
for them to direct, and perhaps even 
perform those duties, the knowledge 
of which they have despised. 


The modern misses, who have gained, 
by years at school, a smattering of 
French and music, and have learned to 
dance beautifully, and warble Italian 
songs delightfully, will find that none 
of these things assist them to sweep 
and dust a room, direct the making of 
bread and preserves, or the manage- 
ment of servants, who soon discern 
whether their mistress knows what she 
pretends to teach. 

I once heard of a lady who had 
always been so very busy learning 
these accomplishments, of which we 
have been speaking, that she would 
devote no time to the important art of 
learning to keep house, but left this to 
her mother’s watchful care. In due 
time, she was married, and then began 
the sorrows, which only those who 
have experienced them can know, of 
miserable servants, or no servants at 
all. One day, finding herself entirely 
alone in the kitchen department, having 
discharged her saucy Irish cook, not 
knowing who else to advise with, she 
inquired of her husband how she should 
cook a piece of corned beef. Her 
husband, being provoked at her because 
she did not know how, told her to roast 
it, of course. Accordingly she did so, 
ar.d when her husband returned to 
dinner, bringing with him an old friend, 
whom he had chanced to meet with, he 
had to eat a piece of corned beef 
roasted ! It is needless to say how 
mortified she was at this exposure of 
her ignorance. 

Some think it very degrading to 
assist in household affairs, and leave 
it all to their servants ; and then some- 
times things are not done exactly as 
they wished them ; whereas, if they 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


179 


had lent a helping hand, it might have 
been done properly. 

Suppose a person should be asked 
to make some broth for a sick friend. 
How badly she would feel if she had 
to refuse, on the plea that she did not 
know how. I should advise all young 
ladies to learn this art ; for theory is 
not so good as practice. m. e. s. 


Aunt Betsey, the Gossip. 

f all the habits least to be encour- 
aged, I should rank among the 
first that of tale-bearing or gos- 
siping. A trifling thing has 
> sometimes been so magnified by per- 
sons addicted to this practice, that dis- 
i cord has been sown in families, and 
resentment, bickerings, and estrange- 
ments have followed in its path. I can 
i no better illustrate this than by a brief 
f sketch : 

Aunt Betsey was a very important 
personage in the village of Roseville; 
for if any people wanted news manu- 
factured to order, Aunt Betsey could 
satisfy any demand they might make. 
She was usually dressed in a rusty 
1 black gown, a tremendous bonnet, and 
a red wig. Rain or shine, she carried 
a huge cotton umbrella, and the very 
twinkle of her grey eyes said as plain 
as could be, “ I know a thing or two.” 

One day, having nothing particular 
to busy herself about at home, (she 
always had plenty of leisure,) she 
sallied forth to visit at the house of one 
Mrs. Highflyer, a kindred spirit, and 
one with whom she could indulge her 
passion for scandal. As she slowly 
walked along, she passed the house of 


Mr. Timotheus Spriggins. Mr. Timo- 
theus Spriggins was a very exemplary 
man Jndeed, somewhat inclined to be 
prim in manners and dress. His neck- 
handkerchief was always tied just so ; 
and Sundays, when he put on his best 
hat, and blacked up his best Sunday 
boots, to appear at the little white 
meeting-house, which stood in the cen- 
tre of the village of Roseville, there 
was not a more respectable looking 
man for many miles around. But 
then, Mr. Timotheus Spriggins was a 
keeper at home, and was particularly 
severe sometimes, when he had an 
opportunity, upon those who meddled 
with every body’s business. His wife, 
too, was a help-mate for him, and his 
children were all little patterns. 

As you may imagine, Mr. Timotheus 
Spriggins was any thing but a favorite 
with Aunt Betsey. She sought, and 
sought in vain, to find something out 
of the way in the conduct of this good 
man and his family. As she was 
walking by his house, on this memora- 
ble day, she stopped a moment at the 
gate, where Mr. Spriggins was stand- 
ing, looking at half a dozen little 
urchins, who were merrily engaged at 
play. She saluted him ; and while he 
answered her briefly, one of his child- 
ren came running up from the opposite 
direction, with a plant in his hand, and 
asked his father if it was good to eat, 
at the same time putting a leaf of it 
into his mouth. 

Now Aunt Betsey, unfortunately, 
was a little deaf, so that she did not 
hear the question, but she saw Mr. 
Timotheus Spriggins spring towards 
the child, and exclaim, “It will kill 
you.” This was enough for her ; off 



180 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


she posted to Mrs. Highflyer, and was 
soon ushered into the dingy parlor. 

“ Oh, my dear Mrs. Highflyer !” she 
exclaimed, when that lady appeared, 
“I have something dreadful to tell 
you. 5 ’ i 

“ Indeed !” cried Mrs. Highflyer, 
in breathless anxiety, “ what is it?’’ 

“Why,” said Aunt Betsey, “just 
now I was passing Timotheus Sprig- 
gins’ house, and he was standing in 
the yard scolding his children. I do 
believe he’d been drinking, if he does 
pretend to be such a saint. I stopped 
a moment to speak to him, and he 
answered me gruffly enough, which 
is’nt surprising, you know, as he’d 
taken a drop too much. While I was 
standing at the gate, one of the child- 
ren ran up and said something saucy 
to his father, I suppose, though I could 
not rightly hear, but Mr. Timotheus 
Spriggins flew into a dreadful passion, 
and ran after the child, crying, ‘I’ll 
kill you ! I’ll kill you !’ Upon this, I 
hurried away as fast as possible, but I 
could hear the child scream all the 
way here; and you know I’m a little 
deaf in one ear. I am really afraid 
the barbarous wretch has killed the 
poor child ; for there’s no knowing 
what a man won’t do, when he’s fond 
of the bottle.” 

“La me!” exclaimed Mrs. High- 
flyer, “ what is our town a coming to ? 
As I used to tell Mr. Highflyer, poor 
man ! the world gets worse every day — 
it’s well he’s dead and gone.” 

Several gossiping neighbors, seeing 
Aunt Betsey entering Mrs. Highflyer’s 
house, and knowing there was news 
afloat, happened in, and the story was 
eagerly told and commented on. At 


last, one old lady thought it would be 
best to send for the sheriff, who lived 
next door, and have him investigate 
the matter. Accordingly, Johnny, a 
grand-child of Mrs. Highflyer, was 
despatched for Solomon Seizum, who 
was ushured into the company of the 
mysterious spinsters. 

“ Oh ! Mr. Seizum !” they all ex- 
claimed, with one voice ; and then 
followed the story, with double the 
exaggeration. 

Mr. Solomon Seizum, with much 
importance, stated to the company that 
he should immediately wait upon Mr. 
Spriggins, and if he found him guilty, j 
put him under arrest. Accordingly he 
left, and many sighs and good wishes, j 
as to the success of his mission, fol- | 
lowed him. But alas ! fifteen minutes j 
had not elapsed, when Mr. Solomon 
Seizum returned, bringing with him ’ 
the veritable Mr. Spriggins. This 
gentleman made a low bow to the 
ladies, repeated the story concerning J 
his murderous intent, as he had heard i 
it from the sheriff, explained to them ! 
that his little boy was about to put the 
leaf of a poisonous plant in his mouth, : 
and he had cried out to him, “ It will f 
kill you.” He concluded his remarks 3 
by something of a lecture on the habit 
of gossiping. I have never heard the 
particulars about that lecture — probably 
the notes of it are not extant — but the old 
gentleman was undoubtedly very severe. I 

As might be expected, the company i 
were somewhat mortified ; but I’ve 
heard it said that none of them relin- 
quished the habit, and that Aunt Betsey 
exclaimed to Mrs. Highflyer, that she 
“ did’nt believe, after all, but that Mr. 
Spriggins did drink” a. c. a. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


181 


Thoughts of the Little Star-Gazer. 

BT REV. C. H. A. BtJX.KX.ET. 


I’m looking on the stars, mother, 

That shine up there, aU bright, 

So like a brilliant string of beads 
Around the neck of Night. 

I love to greet their smiles, mother, 
That fall soft from the skies ; 

They seem to gaze on me in love 
With their sweet angel-eyes. 

It seems to me, sometimes, mother, 
That they are windows bright, 
Through which the happy spirits look, 
And shines Heaven’s holy light. 

Oh ! are they not the gates, mother, 
Of radiant pearl and gold, 

By which we enter heaven at last, 

To rest in God’s dear fold ? 

I often think I see, mother, 

The angels moving there, 

And leaving, in their circling course, 
Their radiant footsteps’ glare. 

I doubt not that the sun, mother, 

In his bold eagle-flight, 

Hath from his glittering wing let fall 
Those dew-like drops of light. 

I ofttimes look to see, mother, 

Those sparks flash in the sky, 

As though Love at his forge had made 
Their circled radiance fly. 

Each time I see one shoot, mother, 
And die in darkening space, 

I think that some loved light of life 
Hath left its earthly place. 

They look as if they were, mother, 
Bright golden bells that ring, 

And make accordant music-tones 
Whene’er the angels sing. 


Oh ! I should love to hear, mother, 
Their notes close to my ears, 

For I have read full often of 
“ The music of the spheres.” 

But ah ! the sweetest sounds, mother, 
Of love and truth are known, 

Like those rapt songs of morning stars, 
In that far realm alone. 

Yon sky a garden seems, mother, 

All full of flowery beds, 

Where sunbeams sleep, and summer’s 
breath 

Its incense ever sheds. 

Oh ! I could almost leave, mother, 

My happy home and thee, 

To roam amid that starry field, 

And in that garden be. 

At night I seem to sit, mother, 

Beneath a great tree’s shade, 

Upon whose limbs grow golden fruits, 
And buds that never fade. 

Why doth not that bright fruit, mother, 
Sometimes to earth fall down ? 

Will never one come near my grasp 
When ’tis to ripeness grown ? 

Oh ! I do often strive, mother, 

To catch one glowing gem, 

And place it with the dearest hearts 
In Love’s bright diadem. 

Oh ! thus it often is, mother, 

The brightest things we see, 

Though ever loved and long desired, 

Too far from us will flee. 

I would be like a star, mother, 

Far from the touch of sin, 

And ever own a heart that glows 
All full of light within. 


182 


\ 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


I love those isles of light, mother, 

In that wide, shoreless sea, 

The azure sea, where floats the moon 
So cloudlessly and free. 

Oh ! I would joy to glide, mother, 

A bark of light among 
Those angel-homes, or moor me safe 
Where radiant raptures throng. 

Oft have I heard it said, mother, 

That sailors, on the sea, 

By those sweet lights have steered their 
barks 

Safe o’er that billowy lea. 

Oh ! how would I rejoice, mother, 

To cheer such lonely eyes, 

Or be a star of Truth to show 
The home of paradise. 

Did not so blest a light, mother, 

Shine on the magi’s way, 

To lead them to the manger where 
The infant Saviour lay ? 

Full well do I believe, mother, 

That on the wall of night, 

God’s pen of fire, in wisdom dipp’d, 
Hath traced these words of light. 

I read in God’s dear book, mother, 

That they whose love divine 
Turns many unto righteousness, 

Like stars forever shine. 

Is not each lustrous world, mother, 

A glorious kingdom given, 

To all who here by truth and right 
May win the prize of heaven ? 

Oh ! I will ever strive, mother, 

To love God and all things, 

That I may dwell and reign above 
Where Love’s light ever springs. 

Yes ! I will pray for all, mother, 

And bless with truth each soul, 

That, like a star, my name may shine 
In heaven’s immortal scroll. 


The Praying little Girl. 

uch a little girl once asked how 
she could pray with the heart, as 
one had told her she must. I 
will tell her how, but I must ask 
her one question, too. What are some 
of the things you pray for? You often 
say, “ Give us our daily bread.” Now 
suppose you had just returned from 
school very hungry, what would you 
do? You would go at once to your 
mother, and ask her for bread. You 
would ask, believing that she would 
give it to you, because she had done 
so often before. In the same way you 
should ask your heavenly Parent, not 
only for food, but for protection and life. 

You often say, “Forgive us our 
sins.” — Suppose, again, that you had 
offended your mother. Your heart 
would be very heavy ; you would 
have no peace. If at study, you would 
think of your kind mother’s just dis- 
pleasure ; and if at play, you would 
stop and remember that no sweet smile 
would meet you when you went home. 
Would you then expect her to pardon 
you, if you went to her and said care- 
lessly, “ Mother, do forgive me ?” 
No, you could not ; but you would go 
with tears in your eyes, and entreat her 
to forgive you ; you would remind her 
that she had always been kind to you, 
and you would promise to do better in 
future, and you would not be happy 
until you were sure she was satisfied 
with you. Now, my child, think of 
this the next time you kneel down to 
pray ; and ask God for daily bread, 
with as much confidence that he will 
hear you, as you have when you ask 
your mother. — Selected . 



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183 



The Testy Schoolmaster. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

"A man severe he was, and stern to view; 

I knew him well, and every truant knew ; 

Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace 
The day’s disasters in his morning face.” 


t T a very early period in my 
school history, we had one 
William Wildfire for our teach- 
er. He was not a remarkably 
handsome man, as I think you will see 
by his profile, which is here pretty 
faithfully sketched, as he appeared in 
repose, mending a pen, with his favorite 
cudgel under his arm. He was a 
most enthusiastic admirer of the ultra 


flogging system. The very first day 
of school, he sent a delegation of some 
dozen boys into the woods, for a large 
bundle of tough rods ; and these were 
laid up to season for use. There were 
just as many as there were children in 
the school, and each one was exclu- 
sively appropriated to a particular 
individual, and bore his or her name. 
We had supposed that all this parade 


(>’ 


184 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


was mere show, and that the rods were 
only kept in terrorem. We were 
wiser, however, in a few days ; in 
less than a week he had experimented 
upon the backs of three-fourths of his 
charge. 

That man was always associated in 
my mind with pirates, bears, sharks, 
hobgoblins, and all that gentry, of 
which I sometimes heard from a super- 
stitious girl living at my father’s ; and 
yet I dare presume he did not properly 
belong to either of these species. 
However that may be, we children 
seldom stopped to philosophize much. 
If he was not a bear, we saw no reason 
why he should act like a bear. We 
could not see that beating brains in, 
was a whit better than beating brains 
out. O, the short-sightedness of child- 
ren ! Somebody has said, however, 
that it makes a great deal of difference 
about the utility of the rod or the 
ferule, which end happens to fall to 
one’s share. I am inclined to believe 
that somebody; and, to this day, I 
have not been able to see that I was 
ever made much better by the way in 
which Master Wildfire’s hickory sprouts 
came in contact with my back and 
shoulders. 

I recollect what a holy indignation 1 
felt one day, when that bear of a 
schoolmaster made Betsey Morgan hold 
the heavy tongs at arm’s lengtn for 
some minutes, striking her with his 
ruler every time she let her arm fall. 
When school was out, I went half way 
home with Betsey, all the way using 
my eloquence against the naughty 
schoolmaster, who could punish so 
good a girl as she was. She did not 
•need much eloquence of this kind 


neither ; for she bursj; into tears before 
I got half through, and cried as if her 
heart would break ; and I cried too, 
almost as much as she did. “ Oh, 
Theodore!” said she, as I left her to 
go home, “ I wish you was the school- 
master ; you would be so good to me.” 
In this wish I heartily concurred. 

But this outrage of “William the 
Conqueror,” in the estimation of the 
scholars generally — I cannot say of 
myself particularly — was not near so 
flagrant as another which he perpe- 
trated only a few days afterwards. 
Julia Nettleton had incurred his dis- 
pleasure. Now Julia was a good girl, 
very good, though not quite so good as 
the aforesaid Betsey Morgan. * Julia 
was forced to stand on the writing 
desk, with both hands holding the 
broom over her head, a long, long 
time. This cruel proceeding was ab- 
solutely insufferable ; all the boys had 
a grand council about it, and the con- 
clusion to which we unanimously 
came, as near as I can recollect, was 
very like the conclusion of that famous 
council of rats, convened for the 
purpose of devising measures of de- 
fence against their common enemy, 
the cat. # 

It happened, very opportunely for us 
poor fellows, that our master found 
.out that he could make more money 
by mending shoes than he could by 
beating knowledge into the rising 
generation, and so he left us. There 
were merry hearts in the old school- 
house, when he delivered what he 
called his farewell oration. I saw no 
tears shed, but one or two which fell 
from his own eyes ; and I never could 
conjecture what these were for, unless 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


185 


they were tears of penitence for the 
many floggings he had given us. 

This was, it is true, the reign of 
terror; but Mr. Wildfire’s successor 
was a governor of the same school, so 
far as the theory of discipline was 
concerned, though he was a different 
man in his temper. Indeed, in the 
whole catalogue that followed, I can- 
not recollect two schoolmasters that I 
loved. They were obtained, with a 
few exceptions, for ten, or at the most, 
twelve dollars a month, board inclu- 
sive ; and of course their patrons could 
not reasonably expect much from them. 
I would not be censorious-*-! hope I 
shall not be so regarded — but I am 
prepared to say, that many of the 
common schools, even in good old 
Connecticut, fifteen or twenty years 
ago, were taught by mere literary 
quacks, grossly ignorant of their pro- 
fession; and so it must ever be, when 
less regard is had to the education, 
character, and mode of government of 
a teacher, than to the dollars, cents, 
and mills, paid for his services. 


Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

NUMBER II. 

( a eorge. Now, Mr. Thinker, will 
1 you tell us a little about the 
j!| breathing and eating of plants? 
** I wonder if they don’t sleep too ; 
how is it ? 

T. I remember I made you some- 
thing like a promise, at our last meet- 
ing, that I would talk a little about 
the habits of plants, when we took up 


the subject of Botany again. Vegeta- 
bles resemble animals in more respects 
than many people imagine. 

G. Do plants really eat, Mr. Thinker ? 

T. Yes, they have organs of diges- 
tion, which receive their food, and 
they are nourished in this way. They 
would die, if they could not eat, almost 
as soon as an animal would. 

G. But how can a plant eat without 
any mouth ? I am sure I could not. 

T. Vegetables live on fluids. They 
cannot masticate solid food, it is true ; 
but they take up liquid substances, and 
these are converted into sap, very 
much as our food is converted into 
blood. 

J. What is the food of plants, Mr. 
Thinker ? 

T. Their principal article of food is 
supposed to be carbonic acid gas. 
This they get through the medium of 
the roots. Besides this, there is another 
principle, called azote, which they are 
said to receive from the earth. 

E. But pray tell us how these fluid 
substances get into the plant ; and after 
they get into the root, how do they run 
all over the plant? Water never runs 
up hill, does it ? 

J. Why, Emma, how does water go 
through a whole sponge, when you wet 
only the lower side ? 

E. That is done by capillary attrac- 
tion, of course. But this is quite a 
different thing. I doubt if you could 
get water to rise a hundred feet in a 
sponge, and some trees are higher than 
that, and the sap must go to the top. 

T. There have been different theories 
respecting the circulation of the sap. 
But the most common, and I think the 
most probable, is this: The fluids in 


186 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


plants circulate upward and down- 
ward, as the blood is carried to and 
from the heart in animals. The prin- 
ciple of capillary attraction alone, how- 
ever, will not explain the rise of the 
sap. The little sponglets of the roots 
do not take up the liquid from the 
earth in dead plants. It has been 
ascertained that heat is a powerful 
agent in the circulation of the sap. 
Indeed, many suppose this to be the 
principal agent. An experiment has 
been made of placing two plants of the 
same kind in two similar vases of 
water, leaving the stem of one plant in 
the open air, and introducing the stem 
of the other through the glass into a 
hot-house. In the latter case, the buds 
will soon expand, and the water will be 
rapidly exhausted; while in the other 
case, the buds will swell slowly, and it 
will take a much longer time to 
exhaust the water. During the day, 
also, and particularly when the heat 
is greatest, the rise of the sap is most 
rapid. At night, there seems to be a 
cessation, .certainly in part. Cloudy 
weather, too, will diminish the ascent, 
and a gleam of sunshine will increase it. 

J. I do not quite understand this. 

T. Well, wiser philosophers than 
you have made the same confession. 
There are many things about the 
circulation of the sap which are mys- 
terious ; but I think I can see one way 
in which heat and cold can affect the 
circulation. Evaporation, of course, 
goes on more rapidly in the day time, 
and when the weather is comparatively 
warm. It is supposed that plants lose 
by evaporation through the leaves, in 
a clear, warm day, about two-thirds of 
the fluid they receive. At night, evap- 


oration being checked, and perhaps 
ceasing altogether, the sap must accu- 
mulate, and if it circulate at all, would 
be likely to descend rather than ascend. 

E. But what becomes of the other 
third of the sap — that portion which is 
not thrown off by evaporation ? 

T. It is supposed that very nearly 
this proportion is purified by ascending 
to the leaves, just as the blood is 
purified by the air it receives from 
the lungs, and that it returns into the 
body of the plant by a different set of 
vessels from those through which it 
ascended, and that in this way nourish- 
ment is communicated to the system. 
But we are left somewhat to conjecture 
here, after all ; for these vessels, if 
such exist, are so minute that they 
cannot certainly be detected with the 
aid of a microscope. 

Now shall we talk about something 
else, and resume this subject at anothei 
time h 


The Precious Gem. 

t N affectionate father, on returning 
from a distance, placed upon the 
neck of his darling, but sight- 
less child, a jeweled necklace. 
While in the act of fastening the clasp, 
he dropped a scalding tear upon her 
arm ; it warmed her heart ; she imme- 
diately kissed it off, and thanking her 
father for his costly present, remarked, 
that she possessed one gem, infinitely 
more precious. On being asked “ what 
is it ? and to what place consigned ?” 
she feelingly replied, “I wear it on 
my heart. It is my father’s tear.” 

£. s. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


187 


The Brother’s Farewell. 

BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH. 

“ Thy rest is won, sweet sister ! — praise for this J” — Hemans. 

Dead ! art thou dead ? 

Loved one ! dost thou not listen to my blessing ? 

Canst thou not feel a brother’s fond caressing? 

Has thy soul fled ? 

Oh, have I now 

No sister ? — Yet thy spirit seems to linger, 

For death has left few traces of his finger 
On thy fair brow. 

Alas, how soon 

The things of earth we love most fondly perish ! 

Why died the flower our hearts had learned to cherish, 
Why, ere ’twas noon? 

I cannot tell — 

But though the gloomy grave be now her dwelling. 

And though my chastened heart with grief is swelling, 

I know ’tis well. 

’Tis well with thee — 

’Tis well with thee, thou pale and silent sleeper ! 
Though I am left a stricken, lonely weeper, 

Alas for me ! 

How sweet the smile 

I saw, when we love’s last sad office paid thee — 
Methought thy spirit blessed us, as we laid thee 
To rest awhile. 

’Tis well for me — 

’Tis well — my home, since thou art there, is dearer— 
The grave is welcome, if it bring me nearer 
To heaven and thee. 

I’ll not repine — 

No, blest one ! thou art happier than thy brother ; 

I’ll think of thee, as with my angel mother, 

Sweet sister mine. 

I’ll check this tear — 

’Tis sweet to my sad heart, with sorrow riven, 

To think that thou wilt come to me from heaven, 

And bless me here. 





188 


THE. YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Still would I share 

Thy love, and meet thee where the flowers are springing, 
Where the wild bird his joyous note is singing — 

Come to me there. 


O come again, 

At the still hour, the holy hour of even, 

Ere one pale star has gemmed the vault of heaven 
Come to me then. ' 


I shall not dwell 

Long in this stormy world, so full of weeping — 

Soon shall I sleep where thou art calmly sleeping. — 
Sister, farewell ! 


N*w York, May, 1847. 


Christian Parlor Magazine. 


The Brook and the Bubbles. 

y young friends, the other, day 
as I walked over the green 
fields, I came to a little brook 
that poured itself joyously over 
a pretty waterfall ; and then it ran into 
a foaming stream near by, whose water 
rushed onward with impetuosity, and 
left its foam upon the shore. But the 
little brook appeared more pleasing 
than the large stream, and as it was 
pretty and interesting, it greatly at- 
tracted my attention. Here I seated 
me down and began to muse. I 
observed a number of beautiful bub- 
bles formed by this little waterfall. 
Some were small and delicate ; others 
large and gorgeous. They beautifully 
reflected the colors of the rainbow ; for 
the morning sun was shining upon 
the sparkling waters. These bubbles, 
though of different sizes, were all 
formed alike and looked alike beautiful 
on their joyous way. They all started, 
I observed, from the same point, and 
moved gently towards the same place — 


the junction of the brooklet with the 
stream. But many of them were of 
short continuance, and soon vanished 
away. Some came in contact with a 
spire of grass, or with one another, and 
suddenly burst and disappeared ; others, 
borne on the smooth surface in the 
midst of the brook, found their mean- 
dering way to the stream that came 
sweeping by. Here they were lost, 
and I saw these beautiful little crea- 
tions no more ! 

Ah ! thought I, here is a touching 
emblem of life — of time and eternity t 
The brook I will liken to the stream 
of life, and the wide and deep waters 
into which the little brooklet fell, the 
ocean of eternity. I compared the 
beautiful bubbles, floating along, to the 
barks in which we sail down the 
stream of life to our eternity. We 
all start from the same harbor — for a 
while we sail along together gaily and 
pleasantly ; but soon some of the 
fragile barks are missing, and we see 
them no more. Others venturing 
nearer the shore, founder upon \e 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


189 


quick-sand, and are dashed against 
the rocky coast, and totally wrecked. 
Some that set out upon the voyage 
together, on loving and peaceable 
terms, run their little barks against 
each other and sink them amidst the 
deep waters. Others still, sailing 
farthest from danger, glide on safely 
and securely, till engulfed in eternity’s 
ocean. Life’s voyage soon ends, and 
eternal things then burst upon our 
vision ! 

Now, my little friends, do not forget 
the lesson here taught you. Remem- 
ber life is like a stream that glides 
softly away — we are as bubbles upon 
this stream — like a shadow, like a 
vapor ; life appeareth but a little time, 
and then vanisheth away. Do not 
sport along life’s rapid river, catching 
at shadows till life is clean gone. Life 
is uncertain. Time is short. Improve 
its golden • moments ; for they are 
recious. So you will be wise ; your 
life will be useful and pleasant, and 
the ending of your voyage will be 
glorious. Camella. 


The Wolf. 

tie wolf is usually regarded as a 
species of wild dog, yet natural- 
ists have found little save the mere 
structure of his body and some of 
his domestic habits, to favor this opinion. 
The strong natural antipathy subsisting 
between the two animals, with the fact 
that they never associate together, and 
never meet save as mortal enemies,. and 
the different periods that they go with 
young, are proofs that nature has con- 
stituted the wolf as a distinct race. 


Man} r of the affinities between the two 
animals are common to other distinct 
species of carnivorous quadrupeds. 

The wolf is larger than the largest 
dog, being from the tip of the nose to 
the insertion of the tail, about three 
feet seven inches long, and about two A 
feet five inches high. His color is a 
mixture of black, brown, and grey ; 
the hair being extremely rough and 
hard, but mixed towards the roots with 
a kind of ash-colored fur. His qualities 
and habits, as a beast of prey, are thus 
graphically described by Buffon : 

“ The wolf is one of those animals 
whose appetite for animal food is the 
most vehement, and whose means of 
satisfying this appetite are the most 
various. Nature has furnished him 
with strength, cunning, agility, and 
all those requisites which fit an animal 
for pursuing, overtaking, and conquer- 
ing its prey ; and yet with all these, 
the wolf most frequently dies of 
hunger, for he is the declared enemy 
of man. Being long proscribed, and 
a reward offered for his head, he is 
obliged to fly from human habitations, 
and to live in the forest, where the 
few wild animals to be found there, 
escape him, either by their swiftness 
or their art ; or are supplied in too 
small a proportion to satisfy his rapa- 
city. He is naturally dull and coward- 
ly ; but frequently disappointed, and 
as often reduced to the verge of 
famine, he becomes ingenious from 
want, and courageous from necessity. 
When pressed with hunger, he braves 
danger and comes to attack those ani- 
mals which are under the protection 
of man, particularly such as he can 
readily carry away — lambs, sheep, or 



190 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


even dogs themselves; for all animal 
food becomes then equally agreeable. 
When this excursion has succeeded, 
he often returns to the charge, until 
having been wounded or hard pressed 
by the dogs or the shepherds, he hides 
himself by day in the thickest coverts, 
and only ventures out at night ; he 
then sallies forth over the country, 
keeps peering round the villages, carries 


off such animals as are not under pro- 
tection, attacks the sheepfolds, scratches 
up and undermines the thresholds of 
the doors where they are housed, enters 
furious, and destroys all, before he 
begins to fix upon and carry off his 
prey. When these sallies do not suc- 
ceed, he then returns to the thickest 
part of the forest, content to pursue 
those smaller animals which, even 



THE WOLF. 


when taken, afford him but a scanty 
supply. He then goes regularly to 
work, follows by the scent, opens to 
the view, still keeps following, hopeless 
himself of overtaking the prey, but 
expecting that some other wolf will 
come in to his assistance, and then 
content to share the spoil. At last, 
when his necessities are very urgent, 
he boldly faces certain destruction ; he 
attacks women and children, and some- 


times ventures even to fall upon men ; 
becomes furious by his continual agi- 
tations, and ends his life in madness.” 

The wolf combines in his nature 
almost every bad quality, with scarcely 
a redeeming trait in his character. 
While the weak and defenceless are 
sufficient to satisfy his appetite, he, 
coward-like, skulks from danger and 
even turns to devouring his own dis- 
abled kindred, rather than expose hin- 


THE YOUTH'S CABINET. 


191 


self to the risks of an equal contest 
with other animals disposed to resist 
his aggressions. Cruel, ferocious, and 
selfish to the last degree, he has ever 
been referred to as a figure of all that 
is hateful in character. “ The wolf in 
sheep’s clothing,” has been a proverb 
from antiquity, in describing the cha- 
racter of a hypocrite. 

Wolve’s are more or less plenty in 
every part of the world ; though they 
are thought to be exterminated in 
Great Britain and Ireland, where they 
formerly were very numerous and 
troublesome. In New England, the 
tales of wolves and their attacks on 
the early settlers, were the terror of 
our boyhood, inspiring scarcely less 
horror than the traditions of the Indian 
wars. The story of Gen. Putnam and 
the wolf is familiar to every school- 
boy. Even to the present time these 
ferocious animals make occasional at- 
tacks on the farmers’ flocks ; and the 
excitements of a wolf-hunt may be 
enjoyed by the people of the same 
district, for two or three times during 
a century. The large bounties offered 
by the State legislatures, have, how- 
ever, cairsed them to be hunted by 
individual huntsmen in the fastnesses 
of the mountains, where the unerring 
rifle gives the remnant of the species a 
more modest exit from the world, and 
the skillful marksman an undivided 
reward for his toil. 


The title of majesty , in addressing 
the sovereigns of England, was first 
used in the time of Henry VIII. Pre- 
vious to that period, the title of highness 
was employed. 


Boiling Ponds in New Zealand. 

® n the edge of a great swampy flat, 
I met with a number of boiling 
ponds ; some of them of very 
large dimensions. We forded a 
river flowing swiftly toward the lake, 
which is fed by the snows melting in 
the valleys of the Tongariro. In many 
places in the bed of this river, the water 
boils up from the subterranean springs 
beneath, suddenly changing the temper- 
ature of the stream, to the imminent 
risk of the individual who may be 
crossing. Along whole tracts of ground 
I heard the water boiling violently 
beneath the crust over which I was 
treading. It is very dangerous travel- 
ing ; for if the crust should break, 
scalding to death must ensue. I am 
told that the Roturua natives, who build 
their houses over the hot springs in 
that district, for the sake of constant 
warmth at night, frequently meet with 
fatal accidents of this kind ; it has 
happened that when a party have been 
dancing on the floor, the crust has 
given way, and the convivial assembly 
have been suddenly swallowed up in 
the boiling cauldron beneath. Some 
of the ponds are ninety feet in circum- 
ference, filled with transparent pale 
blue boiling water, sending up columns 
of steam. I also observed small, deep 
holes or wells, here and there among 
the grass and rushes, from two inches to 
as many feet in diameter, filled with boil- 
ing mud, that rises up in large bubbles, 
as thick as hasty-pudding. The steam 
that rises from these boiling springs is 
visible at a distance of many miles, 
appearing like the jets from a number of 
steam-engines. — Angas’s Savage Life. 


192 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Scotland. 

y young friends, have you ever 
read of Scotland — the land of 
the mountain, the torrent, and 
the dell ? I have been there, 
climbed its heath-clad hills, sailed upon 
the beautiful lochs which diversify so 
pleasingly the romantic scenery of the 
Highlands, visited many of its cities 
and towns, and passed many an hour, 
in admiring wonder, among the moss- 
covered ruins of its ancient, time-worn 
castles. 

This country, which has given birth 
to so many eminent men, and stands so 
conspicuous on the page of history, is, 
in extent, much less than the State of 
New York, comprising an area of but 
twenty-nine thousand square miles, and 
containing but little more than two 
millions of people ; and yet the Scotch, 
with so few men, successfully resisted 
the power of the Romans, who invaded 
their country more than eighteen hund- 
red years ago, and afterwards repeatedly 
repulsed the Saxons, and their descend- 
ants, the English, who made repeated 
attempts, during many centuries, to 
subjugate the country. 

Scotland is divided into the High- 
lands and Lowlands, by the Grampian 
hills, a rugged chain of mountains, 
which, communicating at the head of 
the Frith of Clyde, runs in a north- 
east direction until they terminate at 
Murray Frith. That portion of the 
country north of the Grampians is 
inhabited by the Highlanders, a brave 
and hardy people, wholly distinct in 
their origin, manners, and customs, 
from their southern neighbors, the 
Lowlanders, but agreeing with them 


in two important characteristics, — a 
deep reverence for the sacred truths 
of religion, and a fondness for schools 
and learning. 

In this country lived at different 
times, Wallace and Bruce, and Burns 
and Walter Scott. The two former 
were great warriors and distinguished 
patriots ; but, like our own beloved 
Washington, they fought not for fame, 
but to rescue their loved land from the 
power of its invaders — to preserve the 
liberties of their country. The latter 
two were distinguished for their wri- 
tings. Walter Scott’s works are chiefly 
fictitious, and consist of both prose and 
poetry. Burns also was a poet, but 
most of his productions are written in 
“ broad Scotch,” which makes them 
almost unintelligible to American read- 
ers ; but to the Scotchman, and espe- 
cially to the Scottish emigrant, the 
poems of the Caledonian bard are 
doubly interesting, from the associa- 
tions they awaken. I might speak of 
many distinguished men who were 
natives of Scotland ; I might dwell on 
the traits of character which distinguish 
the people of this country ; but that 
feature in the Scottish character, most 
worthy of notice and imitation, is the 
attention paid to the cultivation of the 
moral faculties. 

The Scotch are emphatically a moral 
and religious people — a church-going 
people — a people with whom the Sab- 
bath is indeed a day of rest and venera- 
tion; and here, my young friends, is 
the grand secret of national prosperity. 
No people can be prosperous and happy 
unless they are virtuous ; and at no 
period can the moral and religious feel- 
ings be cultivated better than in early 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


193 


youth, while the young mind is un- 
biassed by prejudice, and untainted by 
the contagion of evil example, n. c. 

Highland Mills, May, 1847. 


Story of a lion and a Dog. 

S T was customary for those who 
were unable to pay sixpence for 
the sight of the wild beasts in the 
Tower of London, to bring a dog 
or a cat, as a gift to the beasts, in lieu 
of money to the keeper. Among others, 
a man had brought a pretty black span- 
iel, which was thrown into the cage of 
the great lion. Immediately the little 
animal trembled and shivered, crouched, 
and threw itself on its back, put forth 
its tongue, and held up its paws, as if 
praying for mercy. In the meantime, 
the lion, instead of devouring it, turned 
it over with one paw, and then turned 
it with the other. He smelled of it, 
and seemed desirous of courting a 
further acquaintance. The keeper on 
seeing this, brought a large mess of 
his own family dinner. But the lion 
kept aloof, and refused to eat, keeping 
his eye on the dog, and inviting him, 
as it were, to be his taster. At length, 
the little animal’s fears being somewhat 
abated, and his appetite quickened by 
the smell of the victuals, he approached 
slowly, and, with trembling, ventured 
to eat. The lion then advanced gently, 
and began to partake, and they finished 
their meal very quietly together. 

From this day, a strict friendship 
commenced between them, consisting 
of great affection and tenderness on the 
part of the lion, and the utmost confi- 
dence and boldness on the part of the 


dog ; insomuch that he would lay him- 
self down to sleep, within the fangs and 
under the jaws of his terrible patron. 
In about twelve months the little span- 
iel sickened and died. For a time the 
lion did not appear to conceive other- 
wise than that his favorite was asleep. 
He would continue to smell of him, and 
then would stir him with his nose, and 
turn him over with his paws. But 
finding that all his efforts to wake him 
were vain, he would traverse his cage 
from end to end, at a swift and uneasy 
pace. He would then stop, and look 
down upon him with a fixed and droop- 
ing regard, and again lift up his head, 
and roar for several minutes, as the 
sound of distant thunder. They at- 
tempted, but in vain, to convey the 
carcass from him. The keeper then 
endeavored to tempt him with a variety 
of food, but he turned from all that was 
offered, with loathing. They then put 
several living dogs in his cage, which 
he tore in pieces, but left their members 
on the floor. His passions being thus 
inflamed, he would grapple at the bars 
of his cage, as if enraged at his re- 
straint from tearing those around him to 
pieces. Again, as if quite spent, he 
would stretch himself by the remains of 
his beloved associate, lay his paws upon 
him, and take him to his bosom ; and 
then utter his grief in deep and melan- 
choly roaring, for the loss of his little 
playfellow. For five days he thus 
languished, and gradually declined, 
without taking any sustenance or ad- 
mitting any comfort, till, one morning, 
he was found dead, with his head 
reclined on the carcass of his little 
friend. They were both interred to- 
gether. — Blake’s Juvenile Companion . 


194 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


A F 

|Tjk bittern was dissatisfied with his 
JUL condition. He did not love to 
MM be living in swamps, and eating 
all manner of reptiles. He 
wanted to live in the orchard like the 
robin, and be a favorite with every- 
body. “Bitterns can sing as well as 
robins,” said he ; “ and I have no 
notion of being confined to a marsh, 
and catching fever and ague all my 
days.” So he started for the orchard, 
partly flying and partly running at 
full speed, and determined to build him 
a house like the robin, on an apple- 
tree. He was engaged in this busi- 
ness the next day, when some one 
from the cottage near by, saw him, 


and shot him, so that his wing w*as 
broken. Then he was glad to hobble 
back to his old home in the swamp, 
and go to eating frogs and worms 
again. 

MORAL. 

Sometimes, when we complain of 
our condition in life, Providence allows 
us to change it, but shows us that we 
were perhaps quite as well off before. 
Theodore Thinker . 


“Knowledge lies deep in a well, 
but there is a way to draw it up, 
and diligent scholars will find it out.” 



The Discontented Bittern. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


195 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


t E have received a long and very- 
interesting letter from Miss 
Mary M., one of our young 
subscribers at Chaumont, in this 
State. We would gladly insert the 
whole of it, for the benefit of other 
readers, if we 6ould spare the room. 
As it is, we must be content with 
presenting a few extracts. She says, 
‘‘Chaumont is a charming little place, 
with water scenery as beautiful, I 
am told, as any in the State ; and, 
moreover, it is the home of as many 
as eight of your subscribers.” 

She threatens to tell us how to 
pronounce Chaumont ; but before she 
gets through with her letter, she finds 
so many other interesting things to 
say, that she forgets the threat. She 
closes with a question which we must 
try to answer. “ I know you,” she 
says, “as the author of ‘ Chick-a-de-de,’ 
which I sing with so much pleasure ; 
but there are some things about you 
which I do not understand ; and if you 
will not think it too bold for a little 
girl twelve years old to ask you a 
question, I want to inquire why you 
are called the ‘ Man with the Magnet V 
But oh dear! I am making my letter 
a great deal too long, and you like short 
letters !” 

If Miss Mary will look carefully at 
the picture on the cover of the 
Cabinet, she will find a man ap- 
parently very busily and pleasantly 
engaged in conversing with a group 
of children and youth. The room 
occupied by this group is a cabinet, 
or collection of rare and curious things, 
just such things as are most adapted 


to interest, amuse, and instruct the 
young. Here you see an ancient 
vase, doubtless taken from the ruins 
of Herculaneum, which you know was 
buried by an eruption of ashes and 
lava from Mount Vesuvius, a great 
many years ago. Here, too, is an old 
chest, which may have come over in 
the good ship Mayflower, for aught we 
know, or it may have contained Kidd’s 
money, or served some useful purpose 
hundreds of years ago. Then you see 
an Indian’s bow, an electrical machine, 
and several other objects in the room. 
The man, who seems to be somewhat 
at home in this cabinet of curiosities — 
as he is dressed in his gown, and sits 
in an arm-chair, — is amusing his 
young friends with some experiments 
in magnetic attraction. Fie holds in 
his hand a magnet, which attracts a 
pair of scissors, so strongly that they 
are clinging to it, while a little boy 
is about to touch the magnet with his 
pen-knife, so that the latter will become 
magnetic, and so that small needles 
will cling to it. Now, Miss Mary, do 
you understand why the editor of the 
Cabinet is sometimes called the “ Man 
with the Magnet ?” We shall be glad 
to hear from you again, at any rate. 


Another correspondent wishes to 
know if the editor is the author of 
the “ Old Oaken Bucket ?” No, sir. 
That touching ballad, one of the sweet- 
est of its kind in the Anglo-Saxon 
tongue, is immeasurably higher in the 
scale of excellence than the best of 
our poetical efforts. In our brightest 


106 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


dreams — and we have had some in our 
day — we never aimed so high. 

“ It were all one, 

That we should love some bright particular star, 
And hope to wed it,” 

as to attempt so lofty a flight. That 
charming production, so dear to every 
heart that has not been rusted and 
petrified by the world, and especially 
dear to every New-Englander’s heart, 
was written by Samuel Woodworth, 
in semi-lyrical composition, one of the 
sweetest bards on this side of the 
Atlantic. He was long a resident of 
this city, and died only a few years 
since, universally lamented. He was 
a relative of ours, though a distant 
one. We knew him well, and loved 
him. To us he was even dearer as a 
friend than as a poet. Among the circle 
of our intimate acquaintances, there 
were very few with whose society we 
were so greatly and so generally 
delighted; and when he left us — we 
trust for a brighter world — we felt 
how strong had been the cords that 
bound us to that kindred spirit. Per- 
haps we may say more of Samuel 
Woodworth at another time. 


We shall be obliged to decline the 
“Vain Rose.” The idea of the writer 
is a good one, and the poetry has some 
merit. But the article needs pruning, 
to fit it for our pages. At some future 
time, however, if we have leisure, and 
our obliging young correspondent de- 
sires it, perhaps we may make such a 
change in its dress as will render it 
acceptable. 

There is true poetry in “The Wan- 


derers.” The writer must not be 
discouraged, if, in the exercise of a 
pretty severe criticism, we do not 
transfer her effort to our pages. We 
have seen scores of poems in news- 
papers less worthy than this. In the 
following stanza, for instance, the 
writer is very happy : 

The stars looked dimly through the trees, 

And all was lone and still, 

Save the night-bird’s song, borne on the 
breeze — 

The mournful whip-poor-will. 


The following articles are accepted : 
“ The Employment of Time,” “ Biog- 
raphy of the Dog Bancho,” “Scotland,” 
“ The Hunter’s Story,” “ Mining,” 
“ Oh Dear !” “ The Seasons,” and 
“An Hour with the Deaf and Dumb.” 

The enigma of t. f. s. is defective. 
The commandment he has employed 
is mis-quoted. It is made to read, 
“ Honor your father and mother,” 
which is not the precise language of 
the text. 

The articles in this number, entitled 
severally, “ Pride must have a Fall,” 
page 176, “ Importance of Culinary 
Knowledge,” page 178, and “Aunt 
Betsey, the Gossip,” page 179, w r ere 
written by different pupils in the school 
of the Misses Linsley, of this city. 
We think our readers will agree with 
us in the opinion that the articles are 
very creditable, alike to the writers, 
and to the young ladies under whose 
excellent training these early buds of 
genius are developed. The story of 
the Gossip is the production of a girl 
only ten years of age. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


197 


We were not mistaken when we 
said, a month or two ago, that we 
hoped to persuade Prof. Alden to write 
for our pages. The appearance of 
The First Bluebird,’ 5 in the present 
number, is proof enough, we think, of 
our power of persuasion. At any rate, 
it affords additional evidence of the 
correctness of our opinion that Prof. 
Alden is one of the best writers for 
children, all things considered, in this 
country. 


If any of our readers should have 
occasion to take a night boat up the 
Hudson during the season, we are very 
sure they will be pleased with the 
Rip Van Winkle. We went up in 
her a few days since, and were 
delighted with the boat itself, and 
with all the arrangements on board, 
for the comfort of the passengers. She 
is not so large as some others on the 
river ; but she is elegantly fitted up, 
and no 'pains are spared on the part 
of the commander, or any of his assist- 
ants, to make every passenger feel at 
home. We have never witnessed more 
marked politeness on board of any 
steamer on the river, than that shown 
by Captain Riggs and his associates, 
while we were on board. The little 
state-room we occupied, was the very 
picture of neatness and comfort. On 
the whole, we never enjoyed a trip to 
Albany so much. We hope our 
friends will patronize this boat. There 
are other reasons, apart from her in- 
trinsic excellence, why they should 
give her a preference. She is inde- 
pendent of the old monopoly, and was 
placed on the line as a systematic, 
permanent, principled opposition. 


CHARADE. 

The statesman’s hope my first proclaims, 
And oft the hope of staid divines ; 

The joy of laughter-loving dames, 

And eveiy belle who through me shines 
A venial scourge, religion’s bane, 

A country’s despot bought and sold, 
Though often conquered, never slain ! 

Who can this Hydra’s name unfold ? 

As pure as the unopened flower, 

That died before it learned to bloom, 
My second spurns all human power, 

And soars above the reach of gloom. 
Should sin then fetter, evil stain, 

This impulse felt, but never seen— 
Another’s death can break the chain, 
Another’s blood can make it clean. 

My first and second, pure and vile, 

In bands unholy often bound, 

Will banish virtue, nourish guile, 

And scatter desolation round. 

A foe to truth, the good man’s scorn— 

A sund’rer of domestic ties, 

By demons nursed, in Hades bora 
Mildews the heart, but never dies. 

E. A. C. 


ANSWER TO THE CHARADE IN No. 5. 

B. G. m. has given a correct answer 
to the charade in the last number of 
the Cabinet. It is as follows : 

1. Co 1 

2. Nun Conundrum. 

3. Drum, j 

The same subscriber who' sent us 
this answer, desires us to insert the 
following 

CONUNDRUM.- 

Was not Moses the most wicked man 
that ever lived in the world? If so, 
how ? 

(KrWe must repeat the request, that 
editors who exchange with us Will di- 
rect to the Youth’s Cabinet only. 


198 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



The Rice Plant. 


M ere is a sheaf of rice. It looks 
something like wheat and rye ; 
but it is a very different kind of 
grain. Its habits are different 
when it is growing, and it is very dif- 
ferent as an article of food. Rice does 
not flourish in latitudes so far north 
as New York, though it is abundant in 
our Southern States. It prefers low, 
marshy soils, in general ; but .there are 
some species of it which grow equally 
well in dry soils. That species which 
is principally cultivated, requires a 
great deal of moisture. 

Rice is much less nutritious than 
wheat or rye. The reason of this is, 
that it has a very small proportion of 
that property in grain which is called 
gluten; it being principally composed 
of starch. It is probable that rice is a 
native of Asia. 


The cultivation of rice was but late- 
ly introduced into this country. It is 
said that about the end of the seven- 
teenth century, a brig from the Island 
of Madagascar happened to put in at 
some port in North Carolina, having on 
board a little seed rice, which the cap- 
tain gave to a gentleman there, by the 
name of Woodward. This he sowed; 
and, as it was very productive, in a few 
years it was scattered all over the pro- 
vince. About the same time, Mr. Du- 
bois, the Treasurer of the East India 
Company, sent a bag of rice seed to 
this country ; and from these two par- 
cels, it is supposed, originated the two 
varieties, now so extensively cultivated 
in the Southern States. From what 
a small beginning this rice growing 
sprung ! Yet, it is now the principal 
article of food for millions of our race. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


199 


My First Hunting Excursion. 


BY THEODORE THINKER. 


shall never for- 
get the first time 
I sallied out into 
the woods to try 
my hand at hunt- 
ing. Carlo, the 
old family dog, 
went with me ( 
and he was about 
as green in the 
matter of secur- 
ing game as myself. We were pretty 
well matched, I think. v I played the 
part of Hudibras, as nearly as I can re- 


collect, and Carlo was a second Ralph. 
I had a most excellent fowling-piece ; 
so they said. It began its career 
in the French war, and was a very 
veteran in service. Besides this ancient 
and honorable weapon, I was provided 
with all the means and appliances ne- 
cessary for successful hunting. I was 
“ armed and equipped as the law di- 
rects,” to employ the words of those 
semi-annual documents that used to 
summon me to training. 

Well, it was some time before we — 
Carlo and I — started any game. Wind- 




THEODORE’S FIRST SHOT. 


mills were scarce. For one, I began to 
fear we should have to return without 
any adventure to call forth our skill 
and courage. But the brightest time is 
often just before day, and so it was in 
tlys instance. Carlo began presently to 
bark, and I heard a slight rustling 
among the leaves in the woods. Sure 
enough, there was visible a large ani- 
mal of some kind, though I could not 
Vo i. II. 7 


determine precisely what it was, on 
account of the underbrush. How- 
ever, I satisfied myself it was rare 
game, at any rate, and that point 
being settled, I took aim and fired. 

Carlo immediately ran to the poor 
victim. He was a courageous fellow, 
that Carlo, especially after the danger 
was over. Many a time I have known 
him make demonstrations as fierce as a 


200 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


tiger when people rode by our house, 
though he generally took care not to in- 
sult them until they were at a conve- 
nient distance. Carlo had no notion of 
being killed, knowing very well that if 
he were dead, he could be of no service 
whatever to the world. Hudibras said 
well when he said, 

“ That he who fights and runs away, 

May live to fight another day.” 

That was good logic. But Carlo went 
farther than this, even. He was for 
running away before he fought at all ; 
and so he always did, except when the 
enemy ran away first, in which case he 
ran after him, as every chivalrous dog‘ 
should. In the case of the animal 
which I shot at, Carlo bounded to his 
side when the gun was discharged, as I 
said before. For myself, I did not ven- 
ture quite so soon, remembering that 
caution is the parent of safety. By and 
by, however, I mustered courage, and 
advanced to the spot. There lay the 
victim of my first shot. It was one of 
my father’s sheep ! Poor creature ! 
She was sick, I believe, and went into 
the thicket, near a stream of water, 
where she could die in peace. 

I don’t know whether I hit her or 
not. I didn’t look to see, but ran home 
as fast as my legs would carry me. 
Thus ended the first hunting excursion 
in which I ever engaged, and though I 
was a mere boy then, and am somewhat 
advanced now, it proved to be my last. 

The Editor’s Dark Pigeon-Hole. 

f E incidentally told our readers 
some time ago, of a depository 
where sundry candidates for in- 
sertion in our pages were im- 
mured, and never saw the light again. 


This prison we called “ the dark pigeon- 
hole,” or some such name. Since then, 
we have received several very playful 
allusions to it, one of which we have 
published. Here is another. It would 
seem that those have the least fear of 
the pigeon-hole who are most in danger 
of falling into it. Mr. Fearing, in the 
Pilgrim’s Progress, was not the worst 
traveler on the road, by a good deal : 

I’ve often thought I’d like to write 
Something to meet the printer’s sight; 

But then the thought has o’er me stole, 
Remember, Miss, that “ pigeon-hole.” 

I see the name of A and B, 

Whose vanity’s a match for me ; 

They send along their little roll, 

Not thinking of the “ pigeon-hole 
Then when the Cabinet comes round, 
Their verse or prose is nowhere found. 
The reason why ? They pay no toll,* 
And so they find the “ pigeon-hole.” 

Then others, try with all your might, 

You can’t decipher what they write ; 

The fates, of course, we can’t control, 

So that helps fill the “ pigeon-hole.” 

Could that depository speak, 

The words would not be few or weak ; 

But from that dungeon sad and lone, 

The light of genius never shone. 

But one might moralize all day, 

And throw his scanty thoughts away, 

In telling tales both sad and droll 
Connected with that “pigeon-hole.” 

Ne’er think that I shall tell-tale prove 
Concerning some I dearly love, 

Though ’tis a gloomy place to lie, 

And pine away alone and die. 

Now if you like my simple song, 

I’ll send another soon along, 

And then, if sense combine with grace, 

I shall not fear the hiding-place. 

THE PALE FAWN. 


* That is, we suppose, persons of poor memory, 
who never think to pay their postage.— E d. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


201 



Lord Erskine. 


S ere is an elegant statue of a 
very distinguished man, Thomas 
(Lord) Erskine. He was the 
son of the tenth Earl of Buchan, 
in Scotland, and was born in 1750. 
He received his education partly at the 
High School at Edinburgh, and partly 
at the University of St. Andrews. 
He married early on leaving school, 
and subsequently served six years in 
the army, being stationed for most of 
this time in the Island of Minorca, in 
the Mediterranean. By the perse- 
verance of his mother, who had im- 
bibed the conceit that he was destined 
to distinguish himself as a lawyer, 
he left the army, and returned home 


to seek the necessary qualifications 
for admission to the bar. To facili- 
tate this purpose, he obtained a de- 
gree from the University of Cambridge, 
through courtesy of his being a noble- 
man, without pursuing any course of 
study, and while he affected to hold 
university learning in the highest 
contempt. He was called to the bar 
in 1777. In 1779 he was employed 
as counsel for Admiral Keppel, in 
an important state trial, from which 
time he became a leading member 
of the bar, and was employed in 
nearly all the important trials prose- 
cuted in the court of King’s Bench, 
and other high tribunals. He was a 


202 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


successful advocate before Parliament 
in 1781, and was successful in the 
same year in the defence of Lord 
George Gordon, whose “ no popery” 
riots have been noticed by Dickens 
in his historical romance of Barnaby 
Rudge. In 1783 Mr. Erskine was 
elected member of Parliament for 
Portsmouth, and when George IV . 
was made Prince of Wales, he became 
attorney general ; but this last situa- 
tion he lost in 1792, for defending 
Thomas Paine on his prosecution 
for the second part of the “ Rights 
of Man.” But in 1802, the Prince 
of Wales not only restored him to 
the office of his attorney general, but 
made him keeper of the seals for the 
Duchy of Cornwall. The same year 
he visited Paris. When presented to 
Napoleon, the emperor is said to have 
passed him with the simple inquiry 
if he were a lawyer. In 1806 he was 
elected a peer by the title of Lord 
Erskine, of Restormel Castle, in Corn- 
wall, and raised to the dignity of 
Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain. 
This terminated his public career. 

Lord Erskine was the most suc- 
cessful advocate of his time. On his 
defending successfully Hardy and Took 
and others from the charge of treason, 
the populace showed their enthusiasm 
by dragging the advocate home in his 
carriage.- But popular favor, in this, 
as in many other cases, was not 
entirely disinterested ; for some one on 
the occasion stole one of his horses, 
which he never afterward recovered. 

The latter part of his life was 
embittered by misfortunes and troubles, 
growing out of some unsuccessful 
land speculations and other circum- 


stances. He died November 17, 1823, 
at his late brother’s seat, a few miles 
from Edinburgh. A full length statue 
has been erected to his^ memory. The 
picture which we give is said to be a 
very accurate transcript of it. 


The Seasons. 

» iie seasons are four in number : 
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and 
M Winter. They have been very 
^ graphically compared to the life 
of man. Spring is represented as his 
infancy, when he is, as it were, first 
springing up, and is innocent and un 
polluted by the vices of the world ; 
Summer, as the time when he has 
grown up, and is just entering upon 
the cares and responsibilities of life ; 
Autumn, as his middle age ; and Win- 
ter as his old age, when he is on the 
verge of the grave, and only waits for 
some tempest which shall sweep him 
into the abyss upon the brink of which 
he has been long lingering. In the 
spring, which is the first of the seasons, 
the trees put forth their leaves and blos- 
soms ; the flowers spring up ; the grass 
appears ; and gentle showers descend, 
which make all nature assume a fresh 
and lovely appearance. Then, too, 
may be seen birds of every description, 
who have returned to enjoy with man 
this pleasant and salubrious part of the 
year. If we pursue our investigations 
further, and go into the country, we 
will see the farmer driving his horses, 
and turning up the earth with his 
plough — thus preparing the land to 
receive the seed which shall, in its 
proper time, yield him an abundant 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


203 


harvest. Then comes, summer, in 
which the fruits are ripened ; and, if 
we take a survey of the orchards, we 
shall see the branches of the apple tree 
laden with golden fruit, and bending 
almost to the ground with their weight, 
seeming to invite man to eat and be 
refreshed. I can almost fancy myself 
seated on the branch of some tree 
which I have climbed with difficulty, 
and while enjoying the mellow fruit 
which hangs so temptingly displayed 
to the view, looking with delight over 
the crops of corn waving gracefully in 
the breeze, and gazing with admiration 
upon all nature. As I gaze, I feel 
fcow mighty must be the power, and 
how great the wisdom of Him who 
made such beautiful things. Then 
follows autumn, when the flowers de- 
cay and wither away, and when the 
leaves fall from the trees and are 
trampled beneath our feet. “ But a 
short time ago, nature was clothed in 
a robe of deep green, ornamented with 
flowers of every shade and color. 
Now she has laid aside this dress for 
a plainer one, but with a far richer 
ground. It is true that there are 
fewer flowers at this time of the year, 
but those which we have are far more 
beautiful and showy.” After autumn 
has departed, winter comes with his 
bitter frost, and sweeps away what few 
plants autumn has left — letting fall his 
white curtain, and thus closing the 
scene. J. c. h. 


“ He that goes to the tavern first for 
the love of company, will at last go 
there for the love of liquor. Remem- 
ber that, young man.” 


Thoughts about Mining. 

BY AUNT MARY. 

YTJ ook here, children. See this jew- 
U eller’s shop. What a splendid 
1| display ! One is almost daz- 
zled. These are the real fairy 
palaces, where all is gold and silver. 
So much to please the eye — so much 
that is ornamental, beautiful, useful, 
to be admired, enjoyed, but not coveted. 
Those who possess a great deal of 
plate and jewelry are not to be envied. 
They have a great charge. They 
are obliged to guard and secure their 
houses almost as if they were jails, 
“ lest thieves break through and steal.” 
They sleep more sweetly in pleasant 
farm-houses, where they have but 
little silver, and hardly need a lock. 
Such costly treasures bring much 
care, and add but little to the hap- 
piness of the possessor. 

One of the late queens of England 
said she was married when she was 
sixteen, and when, as a royal bride, 
she first wore the splendid jewelry 
which belonged to her as queen of 
Great Britain, she enjoyed it all ex- 
ceedingly : she was probably as much 
elated as a country girl with her first 
silk dress ; but before a month had 
passed, her ornaments became a burden. 
They were so heavy they made her 
head ache ; they were so valuable 
she was in continual fear of losing 
them, or of their being stolen from 
her ; and her jewel-box was a great 
charge and trouble to herself and 
ladies, when the court visited the dif- 
ferent palaces, or made short excur- 
sions. We need not envy the crowned 
head. 


204 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


But does it not seem wonderful to 
remember that all these brilliant, glit- 
tering, splendid treasures, are found in 
the dark mine ? In the depths of the 
earth, hidden from the light of the sun 
and the eye of man, the diamond and 
the precious stone, the silver and 
the gold, and the different metals 
are found. There has God, by his 
own wonder-working power, in the 
secret process of his own laboratory, 
made them and deposited them ; and 


man can only obtain them by hard 
labor and painful effort, and great 
denial and exertion. Trees, and flow- 
ers, and grass, and grains, to cheer 
the heart, and delight the eye, and 
sustain the life — these all grow upon 
the surface of the earth. But the 
precious metals and minerals are found 
in its bosom, and must be dug out and 
brought up with difficulty and toil. 
Miners lead very laborious and dan- 
gerous lives. 



INSIDE OF A MINE, 


This is a picture of a mine. Here 
you see a miner at work. I think it 
is a copper- mine. Here, too, you see a 
curious kind of lamp. There are gases 
in the mine, which take fire sometimes, 
and this lamp is so constructed as 
to prevent such an accident. It was 
invented by Sir Humphrey Davy, I 
believe. There is such a copper-mine 
in Wales. The country around this 


mine is sterile and desolate, hilly ana 
rocky. Fires are used to smelt the 
ores, and the noxious air checks vege- 
tation, tvhile the miners, blackened 
by smoke and dust, often crippled by 
accidents, or found dead by hard 
labor, scarcely seem to look like men. 
That should be very valuable, surely, 
which is only to be gained by such 
exertions and sacrifices. So we find 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


205 


that gold and silver are ranked hy- 
men among their highest treasures. 
They give the means of procuring 
all other things desirable in this world, 
and therefore they are sought and 
coveted, and men give their strength 
and time, and health, and even lives, 
to apquire them. 

But there are higher pleasures than 
those which can be purchased by 
silver and gold. There are treasures 
far more valuable than those taken 
from the deep places of the earth. 
11 The fear of the Lord is the be- 
ginning of wisdom, and to depart 
from evil is understanding and Solo- 
mon says, “ If thou seekest for wisdom 
as for silver, and searchest for her as 
for hid treasures, then thou shalt un- 
derstand the fear of the Lord, and thou 
shalt find the knowledge of the Most 
High.” When we think of the miners 
patiently toiling in the deep, dark places 
of the earth, w T here they never see the 
light of heaven, and have only the faint 
light of lamps and torches, exposed to 
so many dangers, and surrounded by 
so many difficulties, and all for that 
which cannot satisfy, let us apply 
ourselves to the search for true 
riches — for that which can alone make 
this life happy, and which can prepare 
us for heaven. 


“A steward wrote to a bookseller 
in London for some books to fit up 
his master’s library in the following 
terms : — ‘ In the first place I want six 
feet of theology, the same quantity of 
metaphysics, and near a yard of old 
civil law in folio.’ ” 


Employment of Time. 

DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS, This 

lIMJI is an important subject— one 
MjiSI which will probably decide 
** ** your future happiness or mis- 
ery. If it is spent in the improvement 
of your minds, you will make wise and 
good men, and leave the world better 
for having lived in it. But if it is 
spent in idleness, without regard to 
your future welfare, I fear the result, 
as you will probably end a miserable 
existence. Would that I could impress 
upon your youthful minds the necessity 
of early forming correct habits ; for 
“ as the twig is bent the tree’s in- 
clined.” By striving to acquire know- 
ledge, you will succeed, and become 
an ornament to society ; you will oc- 
cupy the places of the good and great ; 
and future generations will remember 
you for your many virtues. You are 
little aware how much you can do for 
yourselves : by perseverance and study 
strive to acquire knowledge, and your 
efforts will be rewarded. Great men 
are not so by nature ; their greatness 
is the result of having made a proper 
use of time. It is not essential to be 
of illustrious origin, in order to become 
distinguished. No, my little friends ; 
many of the wisest men that have ever 
existed were of humble parentage — in 
poverty — who surmounted all obstacles 
by perseverance, and their efforts were 
crowned with success. Pause not, then, 
in the pursuit of knowledge — remem- 
bering your duty to your God, your- 
self, and country. Persevere ; and 
when you shall have arrived at man- 
hood, you will have cause to rejoice 
that while young your time was not 
misspent. e. h. h. 


206 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Our Dog Prince and Ms Enemy. 

BY E. DE VOE. 

r. editor, — Your very amusing 
“ Stories about Dogs” remind 
me of a very sagacious animal 
of the canine race owned by 
my father when I was a youngster. 
We called him Prince ; and although I 
cannot inform the reader of what blood 
he was, yet I am persuaded, if we 
could trace his genealogy, it would 
be found that he had many illustrious 
ancestors. ' He was, at all events, a 
very princely dog, about fourteen 
inches high, with fine glossy hair, fan- 
cifully divided into black and white 
spots. 

Prince was a universal favorite ; yet 
he was not a fawning flatterer, like 
some boys you may perchance be ac- 
quainted with, who will make any 
sacrifice of dignity to gain temporary 
applause. On the contrary, he paid 
very little court to any body except to 
old and tried friends. He preferred 
the society of men to children ; but if 
required to attend a child as a guardian 
on any excursion, he never forsook his 
charge, and was always ready, if oc- 
casion required, to fight for those who 
looked to him for protection. 

He was very neat in his habits — I 
suppose a dog may have habits — never 
lying down in dirty places — refusing, 
with singular uniformity, all decayed 
or filthy meats. He would never take 
any thing to eat from the ground, when 
thrown to him : it must come from the 
hand, or be placed upon a plate or 
clean board. 

He was very particular in the selec- 

9 


tion of his friends ; for, notwithstand- 
ing there were many dogs of his ac- 
quaintance in the neighborhood, with 
whom he met occasionally, there were 
very few that could boast of any inti- 
macy with him. Still, he had friends, 
and very hrm and reliable ones, too, as 
will appear in the sequel. 

Prince had all the accomplishments 
that usually distinguish quadrupeds of 
his species. He would fetch and 
carry, hide and seek, hold up one foot 
and walk lame, hop along on his two 
right or two left legs, sit up in a chair, 
and hold a newspaper with his paws. 
He could walk quite around the room 
on his two fore feet — though I will ac- 
knowledge that he always showed an 
unwillingness to perform this last ex- 
ploit, seeming to consider it undigni- 
fied. He could perform many other 
amusing tricks ; but it is not to exhibit 
these ornaments of education that I 
have introduced him to the reader. I 
could relate many anecdotes illustra- 
tive of his courage and sagacity, but 
will content myself with the following, 
which may be relied on for its truth- 
fulness. 

About two miles from my father’s 
house dwelt a large mastiff. The care 
of his owner had provided for Bruin 
(that was the big dog’s name) a house. 
Some folks call them kennels. This 
surly bear of a dog had a very cow- 
ardly, ugly disposition. He carefully 
avoided dogs of his size, while he in- 
variably attacked every small dog that 
chanced to pass his residence. He 
had a particular spite at the hero of 
my sketch, and always pitched at him 
whenever they came in sight of each 
other. I have thought that Bruin’s ex- 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


207 


cessive animosity toward Prince was 
partly owing to the fact that Prince 
would never run for him, but was on 
all occasions ready to give him battle, 
though the brave little fellow was sure 
to get the worst of it in these unequal 
encounters. 

Prince had borne these infringements 
on his personal rights as a citizen dog 
with a moderation worthy his reputa- 
tion. But he began, at last, to think 
that forbearance was ceasing to be a vir- 
tue ; and having been one day the 
object of renewed insult from his old 
enemy, he determined to chastise that 
overgrown bully, and make his case a 
warning to all future bandit mastiffs, 
who might otherwise presume to inter- 
fere with quiet passengers. 

About half a mile from my father’s 
house was the home of an agile, spirited 
dog, called Clinger, about the size of 
Prince, and the two dogs were intimate 
friends. Prince called upon his asso- 
ciate Clinger, and they agreed upon 
the plan of campaign against the war- 
like Bruin. The reader must imagine 
the language in which this remarkable 
conference was conducted, as I find 
myself unable to translate it, and, to 
tell the whole truth, not being very 
familiar with it myself. Having set- 
tled the conditions of alliance to their 
i mutual satisfaction, they united their 
forces and set out for the enemy’s en- 
campment. Arrived at the field of con- 
flict, Clinger retired into ambush be- 
hind a large log, while the gallant 
Prince advanced to excite a hostile 
movement from Bruin. No sooner had 
the advanced forces of General Prince 
driven in the outposts of his bombastic 
adversary, than that illustrious warrior 


opened upon him a tremendous cannon- 
ade of growls and snarls. Prince re- 
tired in good order until he had drawn 
his pursuer opposite his ally in ambush, 
when, with a skillful and energetic 
onset, he attacked with his flying artil- 
lery the enemy’s right advanced wing, 
or perhaps I should say the big dog’s 
right fore leg ; and now the action may 
be said to have been fairly commenced. 
This successful sally called forth re- 
peated howls of pain, which may be set 
down as the roar of his long thirty- 
twos. 

Here Bruin began to concentrate his 
forces for a new manoeuvre, which he 
hoped would be entirely decisive ; but 
at this stage of the engagement Clinger, 
springing from his covert, pounced 
upon his rear, and charged him to the 
teeth with gripe and caninestir. The 
battle raged with sanguinary fury, and 
for a long time the great weight and 
size of Bruin rendered the issue ex- 
tremely doubtful. At length, however, 
the spirit, activity, and perseverance of 
the two small dogs completely tri- 
umphed ; and, leaving their discomfited 
foe so disabled that he could not drag 
his lacerated limbs from the field of 
conflict, they trotted side by side qui- 
etly homeward. 


“Look Before you Leap.” 

f HERE is an incident in my own 
history which, more than any 
thing else, impressed upon my 
mind the adage, “ Look before 
you leap.” I will relate it ; for it may 
be of some service to other little girls, 
as it certainly was to me. 


208 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


When I was a very little girl, I went 
over from New York to Brooklyn, one 
afternoon, to walk on the Heights. 
While my sister and my nurse were 
very busily engaged in talking, I 
slipped away from them, and ran to 
look down the almost perpendicular 
bluff near which we were. I was very 
much pleased with the view, and 
thought it would be a nice thing to get 
down to the cool water so warm a day. 
But not being exactly willing to take 
such a leap as that, and seeing a little 
footpath, I commenced running down 
that. 


At first, I thought it was fine fun. 
But soon I began to go faster and 
faster, and was frightened almost out 
of my little wits. I tried to scream, 
but all my efforts were in vain. I was 
surrounded by water on one side and 
steep banks on the other, and I could not 
see a single human face. At last I 
reached the foot of the Heights, and fell 
down senseless with my fright. 

When I came to myself, I was in 
my own little bed, and my mother was 
sitting by my side. I made a resolu- 
tion then, that I would always observe 
the maxim, “ Look before you leap.” 



The Curassow. 


f HE curious bird called the Cu- 
rassow is a native of the warmer 
portions of this continent. There 
are several species of the Cu- 
rassow, and some of them are well 
worth attention. They have all hooked 
bills, and are generally about the size 
of a small turkey. There is one spe- 


cies which is distinguished by a crest 
of feathers which curl at the ends. 
This crest can be raised or depressed, 
at the will of the bird. The species is 
called the Crested Curassow. 

The plumage of this bird is very 
beautiful. It is of a deep black, with a 
slight gloss of green on the head, crest, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET; 


209 




neck, back, wings, and upper part of 
the tail. Underneath, there is a strip 
of white. 

There is another species which is 
called the Ca6hew Curassow, or Ca- 


shew Bird, from a large blue gibbosity, 
resembling a Cashew nut, and as large 
as a pear, which is situated at the base 
of the forehead. Nearly the whole 
bird is of a shining bluish color, re- 



the razor-billed curassow. 


fleeting purple glosses. In Mexico, 
Guiana, and Brazil, these birds are 
very numerous, both in a wild and 
tame state. The flesh is excellent. 

There is another species still, which 
is called the Razor-Billed Curassow. 
It is distinguished from the rest of the 
species of this bird by the form of its 
bill, which rises above the level of the 
head, is flattened on the sides, and runs 
into a sharp edge, spreading out at the 
base. 

“Oh! Dear!” 

n dear ! has been an expression 
| Jfjffl in use from the earliest ages. 
If If The peasant and prince alike 
make this exclamation at their 
! various vexations and trials. 

The poor author, returning in the 


evening with his rejected work, as he 
enters his garret, divested of all fur- 
niture, save- a chair and table, throws 
the manuscript on the floor, and “ Oh ! 
dear !” swells from his inmost heart. 

The laborer, after having been em- 
ployed all day in searching for work, 
returns home disheartened with his 
fruitless endeavors. His poor wife 
and starving children cluster around 
him, and many are the “ Oh ! dears !” 
that are uttered at the recital of his 
varied disappointments. 

The king, newly come to his throne, 
fatigued with the cares of government, 
as he casts his eye upon the piles of 
papers waiting his signature, and the 
thousand petitions for as many favors, 
exclaims, “ Oh ! dear !” as feelingly 
as any of his subjects. 

The poor s®amstress, working until 


210 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


the midnight hour, laboring in poverty, 
hunger, and dirt, that others may gain 
admiration, sighs forth, “ Oh! dear !” 
with a bursting heart, as she gazes 
upon the work that lies before her un- 
finished, which must be ready for her 
customers upon a certain day. 

“ Oh ! dear !” is hourly on the lips 
of the poor school-girl, as she surveys 
the task before her, be it a lesson to 
learn, or the more dreadful duty of a 
composition to write. 

I have one piece of advice to give 
on this subject, if my readers will not 
accuse a little girl of preaching before 
she has learned to practice. It is 
simply this : Substitute Til try for 
Oh ! dear / a. 




The Butterfly’s Advice. 


A FABLE. 

t BOY was chasing after a butter- 
fly, but could not catch him. 
By and by the boy became tired, 
and sat down to rest, when the 
butterfly thus addressed him : — “ My 
little master, you are very unwise ; 
you could not catch a butterfly if you 
should try a whole week. Besides, if 
you succeed, the prize would not be 
worth your trouble. I advise you to 
find a more profitable employment, and 
a more sensible amusement.” 


MORAL. 

Many people spend their lives in 
pursuing something which they think 
will afford them pleasure, but which 
they will never obtain, and if they 
should, they would find it very dearly 
purchased . — Theodore Thinker. 


The Motto. 

ne evening, while George M 

JIM was seated by the fire engrossed 
ll in thought, his father entered the 
room, and observing him, re- 
marked : 

u You seem in deep thought, my 
son ; may I know the subject ?” 

“ Certainly, father ; I was trying to 
select some motto upon which to act, 
to aid me in doing right, and becoming 
a useful and happy man.” 

“ I am very happy to find your 
thoughts so well employed. Have 
you found one, or would you like some 
assistance ?” 

“ Our teacher said to us the other 
day, that if we would take for our 
motto, ‘ I will try/ we might accom- 
plish great things. I think it a good 
one ; but perhaps, father, you could 
think of a better.” 

“ I do not know about finding a bet- 
ter ; but I am inclined to propose one, 
which would be equally good for you, 
George ; besides, it has the advantage 
of being somewhat shorter.” 

“ Why, father, my motto has but 
eight letters !” 

“ But mine,” said his father, “ con- 
tains but two words, and only four 
letters. But do not think it insignifi- 
cant on account of its brevity ; for if 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


211 


strictly followed, you will find it pos- 
sesses an almost magic power to mould 
the character to all that is good and 
praiseworthy.” 

“But, father, I am becoming very 
anxious to know what this motto may 
be.” 

“ I will tell you, my son. My motto 

is, ‘Do it.’ You look as if you thought 
it needed explanation. I mean by it, 
whenever a duty to be performed pre- 
sents itself, that you should not talk 
about it, or dread, or defer it, but 
simply do it. But how do you like my 
motto, George ?” 

“ Why, father,” said George, after 
some hesitation, “ it seems as if it 
would be a hard kind of life to be 
always obliged to do at once whatever 
one found to be done.” 

“ Well, my son, if you are disposed 
to try it for one week, you may perhaps 
at the end of that time be able to de- 
termine for yourself whether it is 
really more irksome to perform a duty 
at once, than to attempt to defer or avoid 

it. But I see,” continued his father, 
smiling, “ that you are somewhat afraid 
of these two little words, and I readily 
acknowledge they are somewhat for- 
midable. Indeed, I would honestly 
forewarn you, that with your present 
love of ease and habits of procrastina- 
tion, you cannot adopt my motto, and act 
upon it, without a determined effort and 
strong resolution to do so. But recol- 
lect, my son, it is not forced upon you. 
Do not adopt it unless you choose to 
do so.” 

“ Well, I believe your motto is a 
good one, if I can but adhere to it ; and 
I am resol v 3d to try for one week at 
least.” 


“ Very well, my son ; I wish you 

success.” 

During the week George found 
abundant opportunities for putting in 
practice his motto. One or two in- 
stances of his efforts and success will 
serve as specimens of the rest. One 
morning his father handed him a pack- 
age, with directions to deliver it during 
the day to a gentleman who resided 
some distance from his father’s house. 
It was a bitter cold morning, and as 
George looked upon the glowing coals 
in the grate, he asked if he must go 
before school. His father replied, “ You 
must deliver it some time during the 
day or evening ; but you can choose 
your own time.” I will wait till even- 
ing, thought George. But just then 
his motto came to mind, and, taking his 
cap, he said, “ No, if it must be done, 
I will do it now.” In the evening, as 
he looked out upon the fast-falling 
snow, and then turned to the cheerful 
fire, and took up the last number of the 
Youth’s Cabinet, which had just been 
laid upon the table, he thought of his 
morning’s walk, and said to himself, 
“ How much better to do a thing at 
once, than to defer it until another 
time.” 

Another • morning during the week, 
George started early for school, that 
he might have time to join with some 
of the boys in some, of their winter 
sports before school commenced. On 

the way he met little James W 

taking home a loaded basket to his 
mother. Now it was icy, and the basket 
was very heavy for a little boy, and 
poor James found it hard work to make 
his way ahead. I ought to return 
with him and help him home, thought 


212 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


George ; but if I do, I shall have no 
time for play before school. He was 
about to proceed on his way, when he 
thought of his motto, and turned back, 
saying, “ I ought to assist him, and I 
will do it.” James was very grateful ; 
and those of my young readers who 
have experienced the luxury of denying 
themselves to do good to others, need 
not be told that when George after- 
ward thought of the service he ren- 
dered little James, he was not sorry he 
did it. 

George often found it required no 
small degree of resolution to adhere to 
his motto ; but he never afterwards 
repented of doing so. He was sur- 
prised to find how much it aided him in 
overcoming habits of indolence and pro- 
crastination, for which he had often 
been reproved. 

At the close of the week his father 
inquired how he liked his motto. 
“ Very much,” said George. “I feel 
so m ich better when I have done a 
thing I know should be done, than I 
used to when I tried to avoid doing it. 
I am resolved to take it for my motto in 
future.” 

“ I am pleased with your resolu- 
tion,” said his father. “I have no 
doubt if you act upon it your useful- 
ness and happiness in this world will 
be secured. But., my dear son, I wish 
you to apply your motto to duties and 
interests which reach beyond the 
boundaries of time. There are sa- 
cred duties you owe to the Author and 
Preserver of your being. Will you 
not do them ? You are destined for 
immortality ; but you are a sinful 
being. As such, God calls upon you 
m his Word to repent and believe on 


his Son, Jesus Christ. Do it. Defer it 

not, and you will escape the fearful 

doom of the servant who knows his 

Master’s will and does it not. m. 

\ 



Ancient Books. 


engraving represents a group 
f of ancient books. Some of them, 
M as you see, are sealed, and some 
are loose. Here you observe, 
too, the ink-horn and the pen used in 
ancient times. A great many years 
ago, long enough before the art of 
printing was invented, books were 
very rude things compared with the 
books we have. They were then gene- 
rally rolled, not folded, as at present, 
being made of palm leaves, the inner 
bark of trees, the Egyptian papyrus, 
whence comes the name of paper, and 
the skins of animals. In the very 
earliest times writing seems to have 
been on stone, wood, lead, iron, linen, 
and copper. God’s law was written 
on stone ; Hesiod’s poems on tables of 
lead ; Solomon’s laws on planks of 
wood. The printing of books was in- 
vented about 1450. A sealed book is 
one whose contents were not to be 
known, until by competent authority 
the seal was removed. Writings were 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


213 


oflen hidden in the earth for safety in 
times of war and confusion, and were 
consequently enclosed in boxes or jars 
to preserve them from the dampness. 
You see a specimen of these boxes 
and jars in the engraving. 


/ 

Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

NUMBER III. 

f HE last time we had a talk about 
botany, I think we inquired a 
little into the habits of plants, 
how they eat and drank, and 
how the blood circulates in their veins. 

J. Oh, yes ! and now we want to hear 
about the breathing of plants. I won- 
der if they do not have the consumption 
sometimes, as men do. I should think 



T. Certainly. Pulmonary affections, 
or diseases of the lungs, are quite com- 
mon in the vegetable kingdom. The 
sickness of the sycamore tree, which, 
for several years past, has been almost 
universal in this country, is supposed to 
be one of the lungs ; and if it continues 
much longer, I am afraid it will become 
chronic , as the doctors say. 

G. What is a chronic disease, Mr. 
Thinker ? 

T. Well, I am not much of a 
physician ; but I believe when a 
disease is of long standing, and be- 
comes very difficult to manage, it is 
called chronic , to distinguish it from a 
disease that is of recent origin, which 
will soon be decided one way or the 
other, and which is called acute. 

E. Mr. Thinker, are the flowers the 


lungs of plants ? If they are, I do not 
wonder people talk about their breathing 
sweet perfume. 

T. No, my dear. The leaves act as 
lungs. 

E. I should like to know how. Do 
they take in air, and is it distributed 
all over the plant ? 

T. No, nothing like it, though, from 
the manner in which animals breathe, 
you might suppose this was the case. 
In animals, the air is taken into the 
lungs in breathing, and is decomposed. 
It gives up part of its oxygen, which 
unites with the blood, and receives from 
the blood a portion of carbonic acid and 
vapor. But in plants the process is al- 
most exactly the reverse. The blood, 
or sap, mounts up into the leaves, and 
a part of it becomes decomposed 
there. Some of the oxygen is set free 
from the carbon in the sap. The former 
is given off into the air with a large 
part of the undecomposed water in the 
sap, which escapes by evaporation, as 
vapor rises from a pond. The carbon 
remains in the leaf. 

J. What is the reason plants do not 
seem to flourish in the dark ? 

T. I am glad to hear you ask that 
question, Josephine. It shows you 
are in the habit of thinking. George, 
can you throw a little light on this 
subject ? You are something of a 
chemist, I believe. 

G. I never thought of the matter be- 
fore ; but,, as you say the sap must be 
partly decomposed in the leaves, so as 
to separate the oxygen from the carbon 
and other substances, I think the air 
needs some assistance from the light, 
does it not ? 

T. Precisely so. Do you remember 


214 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


what constitutes the principal food of 
plants ? 

J. I think you said carbonic acid 
and a principle called azote. 

T. Not quite. I think you should 
rather say carbon than carbonic acid. 
The leaves, it appears, are a kind of 
machinery, with which these two me- 
chanics, light and heat, manufacture the 
food which nourishes the plant. You 
can see the reason now, why plants 
that are exposed to a great deal of 
light are harder and tougher than 
those which grow in shady places. 
They have more to eat. Their food is 
more nourishing, and so it makes them 
stronger, and more able to endure ex- 
tremes of heat and cold. There are 
but very few hardy plants growing in 
swamps, unless we except the trees 
themselves, and they are so tall that 
their leaves come in contact with the 
direct rays of the sun. 

J. But there is one thing I do not 
quite understand yet. It seems that 
plants take in carbonic acid. Why is 
it not proper, then, to say that they live 
on that 1 

T. For the same reason that it is not 
proper to say that, because you drink 
water at your meals, the water must act 
the part of food, and make blood, and 
support the system. George, what are 
the elements of carbonic acid ? 

G. Oxygen and carbon. 

T. Very well. The plant receives 
carbonic acid because it cannot get car- 
bon in its pure state. It rejects the 
oxygen in it, and appropriates to its use 
only the carbon. 

J. I should like to know how any 
body can ascertain such a fact. 

T. I see you are a little inclined to 


skepticism, Miss Josephine. You forget 
the old truism, “ Where there is a will 
there is a way.” An experiment has 
been made like this : a plant is confined 
in a close vessel in the dark ; the ves- 
sel, of course, contains atmospheric air. 
Now the plant converts all the oxygen 
in that air into carbonic acid. This 
can only be done, as we have seen, in 
the absence of light. It performs this 
process by first absorbing all the 
oxygen. That combines with a por- 
tion of the carbon already in the leaf, 
and then the gas is thrown off. So the 
oxygen in the vessel is converted into 
carbonic acid. Let the plant now be 
exposed to the direct rays of the sun in 
the same vessel, without admitting a 
fresh quantity of air, and this gas will 
all be absorbed again. But the carbon 
will be retained, while the oxygen will 
be returned to the vessel. 

G. Mr. Thinker, you told us the 
other day that it was dangerous to 
sleep in a room with plants. I think I 
now see the reason. Is it not because 
they throw off carbonic acid during the 
night ? 

T. Yes, that is a part of the reason, 
though not the whole of it. Plants in 
the night not only part with carbonic 
acid — which is quite injurious when 
taken into the lungs in any considera- 
ble quantity — but they inhale the oxy- 
gen, which we need in breathing. 

J. I think I have made a discovery, 
too. I see why it is the house-plants 
reach forward toward the light. It is 
so they can throw off their oxygen, and 
so that, by this process, they can get 
more carbon to eat. 

T. No doubt you are right ; and is 
it not by the agency of this hunger, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


215 


so to speak, of the seed, when it is 
planted under ground, in the dark, 
that it is forced up to the surface, so 
that the light can act upon it, and 
assist in its nourishment. 

But we must bring our present con- 
versation to a close. How plainly does 
the wisdom and goodness of God shine 
out in all his works. In the economy 


of vegetation — in the very process by 
which vegetable life is sustained — the 
health of man is promoted. Plants 
throw off more oxygen than they 
receive from the air, and take in 
more carbonic acid than they return 
to it. Thus they purify the air, and 
render it more healthful for mankind 
to live in. 



■ Edward VI. 


« f all the monarchs that ever sat 
upon the British throne, none 
have so strong a claim upon the 
gratitude and attachment of 
young people, from his youth, his dis- 
position, and those tender memories 
which attend an early regretted death, 
as Edward VI. 

He was but nine years and three 
months old when he ascended the 
throne ; he had an extraordinary memo- 
ry, and excellent sense for his age, 
while he was indefatigable in his 


studies, to render him the better able 
to fulfill the duties of his exalted sta- 
tion. When eight years of age he was 
capable of writing Latin letters to his 
father, Henry VIII. ; and French was 
as easy to him as his mother tongue. 
He applied himself to the arts and 
sciences, and became master of the 
French, Greek, Spanish, and Italian 
languages. 

His coronation was solemnized on the 
20th February, 1547, on which oc- 
casion a general pardon was granted 


216 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


to all pe^ons, excepting the Duke of 
Norfolk, Cardinal Pole, Edward Court- 
ney, son of the Marquis of Exeter, and 
some few others. 

Among many institutions established 
by his wishes and under his authority, 
for good and charitable purposes, that 
of Christ’s Hospital stands foremost for 
the high character of the education 
which it bestows, and for the men of 
first-rate ability and talent it has sent 
forth into the world. 

Archbishop Cranmer, the godfather 
of Edward, on one occasion brought a 
present to him, saying, that no one but 
himself was to touch it, or it would 
soon be.spoiled. “ Then, my dear, kind 
brother,” replied the child, “I would 
rather not have any plaything at all.” 
And again, when trying to reach 
something beyond his height, one of 
his companions handed him a Bible to 
stand upon ; but this the young prince 
mildly refused, saying, that such an 
act would be a desecration of the Scrip- 
tures. His reverence for the Word of 
God is worthy of imitation. 

His latter days were particularly 
employed in the contemplation of all 
that was suited to fit him for a better 
world, and he expired on the 6th July, 
1553. 

It has been stated, that poison had 
been administered to the young sove- 
reign ; but there can be little doubt 
that disease of the lungs was the real 
cause of his death. Physicians of the 
day prescribed for him in vain ; and in 
accordance with the superstition of the 
time, some old women were called in, 
who, it may be supposed, did more 
harm than good . — London Juvenile 
Library . 


Wonders of Central America. 

f HERE is much reason to believe 
that a portion of this continent 
was settled by a very intelligent 
and refined race of people, be- 
fore it was occupied by the Indians 
whom the Spaniards found here in the 
latter part of the fifteenth century. In 
Central America, especially, a great 
many works of art have been found, 
which must have had a very ancient 
origin, and which bear marks of more 
ingenuity and skill than are possessed 
by the Indians. Other circumstances, 
too, contribute to strengthen the proba- 
bility that a race of people, now extinct, 
once lived in that country. 

Mr. Stevens has done more than 
any other man to enlighten us in re. 
gard to the antiquities in Central 
America. Some years since, he spent 
a long time in that country in ex- 
amining them, and took Mr. Cather- 
wood, an excellent artist, with him, who 
made drawings of many of these curi- 
ous relics. Mr. Stevens published the 
result of his observations in two large 
volumes, with the engravings of Mr. 
Catherwood’s sketches. The appear- 
ance of this book created quite a sensa- 
tion in this country and in Europe. It 
opened a new field of inquiry in rela- 
tion to the history of the western con- 
tinent, and set in motion a great deal of 
speculation. 

The engraving represents an idol 
which Mr. Stevens found in Copan, Cen- 
tral America. It is hewn out of stone. 
Mr. Stevens says, in regard to this idol, 
that it is the most beautiful in Copan, 
and in workmanship is equal to the 
best Egyptian sculpture. “ Indeed,” he 


( 


•A 

£* 



ANCIENT IDOL IN CENTRAL AMERICA. 




218 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


remarks, “ it would be impossible, with 
the aid of the best instruments of 
modern times, to cut stones more per- 
fectly. The face of this idol is de- 
cidedly that of a man. The back of 
this monument, the view of which is 
given in the engraving, has nothing 
grotesque about it — nothing pertain- 
ing to the rude conceits of the In- 
dians, but is remarkable for its ex- 
treme grace and beauty. In our daily 
walks, we often stopped to gaze at it, 
and the more we gazed, the more it 
grew upon us. The front view is 
horrible. The face of the man repre- 
sented, is well calculated to excite 
terror. The eyeballs seem almost 
starting from their sockets.” 


Life in the Southwest. 

BY A SOUTHERNER. 

f HERE are a great many readers of 
the Youth’s Cabinet who have 
never seen, and therefore know 
very little of, that part of the 
United States watered by the Missis- 
sippi river. Attend to me, boys, and 
listen a little while, you giddy, frolic- 
some girls, and I will tell you some- 
thing about it. And if you will take 
your school atlas, and turn to the 
map of the United States, you will 
understand better what I am going 
to say to you, and will feel more in- 
terested, too, in reading what I write 
for you. 

Find Pittsburg, at the head waters 
of the Ohio river. Have you found it ? 
'Tis a terribly smoky and gloomy-look- 
ing city, but a very busy one, I as- 


sure you. Now follow the windings of 
the Ohio river, till you come to Cin- 
cinnati. It don’t look very far on the 
map — not longer than your finger — but 
it would take you two or three days’ 
travel in a swift steamboat, for it is 
full five hundred miles distant from 
one of these cities to the other. Don’t 
stop, though. Keep moving on down, 
and you will pas$ the beautiful town of 
Madison, in Indiana, and then the city 
of Louisville, which is the largest and 
most flourishing town in Kentucky. 
Further down the river, you come to 
Evansville, in Indiana. Ten years ago 
I was there, and it was a poor, little, 
scattered about place. Last year I was 
there again, and could not help being 
surprised at the change. Evansville / 
is now a large and flourishing town ; 
and if you were to stop every genteel- 
looking man in the street, and say 
to him, “Where, sir, are you from?” 
he would almost invariably answer 
you, “ From New England.” 

Passing on down stream, you pres- 
ently come to the mouth of the Ohio. 
Here you don’t see much but water. 
The Ohio is a bold and broad stream at 
its mouth — a mile wide, I should sup- 
pose. But it meets here another river, 
which is a bolder and a mightier. Did 
you, my reader, ever see the majestic 
Mississippi ? Ah, it is a river ! That 
crooked, black line upon the map can 
give you no kind of an idea of it at all. 

It only shows you where it is. You 
must travel upon it by day, and you 
must sit upon the “ hurricane deck” of 
a steamboat on a fine moonlight night, 
as it plows its way so proudly upon the 
bosom of this mighty water, before you 
can have even a faint notion of how 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


219 


great and how grand it is. It gives 
you feelings quite new and peculiar ; 
and in the spring of the year, when it 
is booming high, and all around you, 
far and wide, above and below, is a 
vast torrent of rushing water, you can- 
not help but think, and feel, too, that it 
is a very mad and dangerous stream. 

There are but few towns upon its 
banks. The country is thereabouts so 
flat, and the bed of the river changes so 
often, that it would be impossible to 
build a permanent town where the 
banks are low. 

How beautiful appear the islands 
with which the river is profusely stud- 
ded ! You see them lying embosomed 
in the channel of the stream far before 
you. They look fresh, and green, and 
pure, seeming just to have come forth, 
teeming with verdure, from the boun- 
teous hand of Nature herself. 

The first town of any importance 
you reach, after leaving the mouth of 
the Ohio, is Memphis. This is far 
down in the southwestern corner of the 
State of Tennessee, not many miles from 
the northern border of the State of 
Mississippi. Memphis is a very im- 
portant place, furnishing, as it does, a 
market for a large scope of wealthy 
country. Take your map again, my 
children, and I will tell you. You 
see that Memphis is in Shelby county ; 
back of it is Fayette county ; and then 
to the eastward and northward of these 
are Hardeman, Madison, Haywood, and 
other counties. In the State of Missis- 
sippi, to the south, there is De Soto, 
Marshall, Tippap, Pontotoc, Lafayette, 
and other counties, all well settled with 
thriving cotton farmers, who carry their 
cotton bales to Memphis, and either sell 


them there or ship them to New Orleans. 
But in either case they must buy a great 
deal of merchandise, such as groceries, 
negro clothing, iron, salt, and the hun- 
dreds of necessary articles for family 
use, which your good mothers, my 
children, have occasion for. 

I direct your attention to this region of 
country, and call to your notice these 
counties in Tennessee and Mississippi, 
because I have lived in them for five or 
six years, and intend to tell you here- 
after something about them, as well as 
the people who live there. After 
leaving Memphis, you dash on down 
the big river four or five hundred miles 
or more, and then you come to Natchez. 
Natchez is quite an old town, and is 
still a wealthy and somewhat flourish- 
ing place. It would be very interest- 
ing to gather up stories from this town 
of Natchez, for it has been a central 
and important place a great while, and 
has many reminiscences of the French 
and Spanish dominion in the southwest 
connected with it. One story I must 
tell you now ; it was told to me by an 
old gentleman who witnessed the inci- 
dents more than twenty years ago. 

A Mexican, who was very skillful in 
throwing the lasso , happening to find his 
way up the river, was employed by the 
farmers about Natchez in catching wild 
cattle, or stray cattle which had become 
wild. One day, Signor Mexicano was 
sitting quietly on his horse, lasso in 
hand, watching a steamboat that had 
newly arrived from the up-countries. 
In those days the arrival of a steam- 
boat was more of a rarity than now, 
when y^ou can see, on any day, a dozen 
boats passing up and down between 
sunrising and sunset. As the boat 


220 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


neared the wharf, a real live Ken- 
tuckian jumped ashore, and, as was 
customary, began vaporing and bluster- 
ing at a great rate. According to his 
own telling, he was “ all sorts of a fel- 
low,” — could outjump, outwrestle, and 
outdo all creation ; and finally, pulling 
off his coat, dared any “ gentleman” to 
a fair fist-fight, and all for the honor 
of “ Old Kentucky.” 

In the midst of this very eloquent 
harangue and self-laudation, the Mexi- 
can coolly gathered up his lasso, and by 
one unerring throw caught Mister Nim- 
rod securely around the waist, and put- 
ting spurs to his horse, dashed off up 
the hill. Never was mortal man so com- 
pletely arrested in his “ high career,” 
and never did any poor crest-fallen crea- 
ture beg harder or beseech more ear- 
nestly than did the Kentuckian, who, 
although he was “ half horse and half 
alligator,” was by no means a match 
for a tight noose and a fleet horse. 
Seizing the rope by both hands, he 
struggled, almost vainly, to keep his 
feet, and before he had half reached the 
top of the hill, declared, most vocifer- 
ously, that there was “ not even a 
‘sprinkling’ of the wild cat in him, 
but that he was plain John Snooks, 
bound to Orleans on a trading trip.” 
Whereupon, after many concessions 
and promises of a more quiet behavior 
in future, he was loosened and al- 
lowed to depart, amid the shouts of the 
multitude. 

Batou Sara, La., Jokb. 184T. 


“ Think twice before you speak 
once — or, at least, think once before 
you speak twice.” 


Our Neighbor, Uncle Barnabas. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

t EADER, with your kind permis- 
sion, I will introduce to you 
my old friend, Mr. Barnabas 
Willoughby, alias Uncle Bar- 
nabas. He was a man of the old style ; 
and when he walked out, if you had 
seen him, you could almost have fan- 
cied that a representative of a past age 
was coming. He loved the old fashions 
and customs much better than the new 
ones, and his hat and coat would cut a 
curious figure on Broadway, if they 
should happen now to appear there. 
He never stirred from home without 
having a small army of boys and girls 
around him. All the little folks in our 
village loved him. They would all 
leave their play, whatever it was, as 
soon as they saw him coming, and run 
up to him. 

I wish you could have seen Uncle 
Barnabas, reader, just as he appeared 
when he used to walk out with his staff, 
his pockets lined with nuts and sugar- 
plums for distribution among his little 
favorites — I wish you could have seen 
him then, or in his old arm-chair, telling 
stories of a winter evening. His head 
was very white when I first knew him, 
and he was bent a little, though not as 
much as those of his advanced age 
usually are. He was as regular in his 
habits as 

The ancient clock that click’d behind the door. 

If he was ever in ill humor, it was 
when, from some unavoidable disaster, 
Aunt Sallj^had failed to set the dinner 
on the table when the venerable time- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


221 


piece before mentioned was striking 
twelve. 

He always had worship in his family 
morning and evening. Nothing was 
allowed to interfere with this arrange- 
ment. It was astonishing what a familar 
knowledge he had of the Bible. I have 


known him repeat chapter after chap- 
ter, almost verbatim, for an hour at a 
time, while some of us followed him 
in the old family Bible, right glad to 
detect an error. As for the Assembly’s 
Catechism, he -did not need a prompter 
from beginning to end, so inwrought 



UNCLE BARNABAS WALKING OUT. 


was that good old compend of Christian 
doctrine into the frame-work of his 
mind. And he was almost as familiar 
with the Pilgrim’s Progress. That 
book and the Saint’s Rest always lay 
on the stand within reach, close by the 
inspired Word. There, too, was Watts’ 
Psalm Book, which looked as if it had 
“seen some service;” and these four 
volumes constituted a sort of aristoc- 
racy, to whose society the few other 
books in his library rarely gained 
admission. 

I never met him in my* life but he 
stopped to speak to me ; and many a 


time has his beard, not particularly soft, 
come in contact with my cheek. 

He had evidently seen better days, or, 
rather, he had been “ better off in the 
world,” as the phrase goes. Whether 
he had been happier, may admit of a 
question, for the wealthiest man is not 
always the happiest. There were 
marks about him which indicated 
that he had been somewhat higher on 
the wheel of fortune, and that the 
change in his condition had had a 
chastening effect, as some fruits — to 
employ a comparison borrowed from a 
beautiful writer — become mellower and 


222 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


more generous in their flavor from 
having been bruised and frost-bitten. 
But, with the reader’s permission, I will 
reserve the remainder of my sketch of 
Uncle Barnabas till next month. 


The Hunter’s Story. 

rrj f my readers will turn their atten- 
|] tion to the map of Pennsylvania, 
M and find MacKean county, they 
will perceive it occupies a position 
in the northwest part of that state, and 
that some of the principal branches of 
the Alleghany river take their rise in 
this county. It is a hilly country, and 
abundantly watered with springs and 
Drooks. 

As late as the year 1804, it was an 
unbroken wilderness, trod only by the 
Indian and white hunter. The hills 
were covered with a noble growth of 
beech and maple trees, and the lower 
valleys heavily timbered with pine and 
hemlock. 

Soon after this, some adventurous 
lumbermen from the banks of the Sus- 
quehannah and Delaware rivers made 
a settlement, hazarding every hardship 
to gain a home in this wilderness. 
After clearing sufficient land to produce 
the necessaries of life, they constructed 
mills, and sawed the pine trees into 
boards, which they rafted to Pittsburgh, 
where they found a good market. The 
lumber business has increased with the 
rapid settlement of the west, and now 
the whole valley of the Ohio and 
Mississippi rivers is supplied from the 
country lying on the head-waters of the 
Alleghany river. Every small stream 
in this country, that affords sufficient 


water to propel a mill, has been put in 
requisition, and the wilderness of 1804 
has been transformed, by the active 
energy of industrious and enterprising 
men, into a cultivated district, thickly 
studded with saw-mills and grist-mills, 
dwellings, churches, and school-houses. 
Now, in the place of deer and elk, cat- 
tle and sheep occupy the forest. 

During the summer of 1832, 1 visited 
an obscure corner of the county ; civili- 
zation had just commenced its inroads; 
lands were being cleared, houses raised, 
mills erected. Some of the new comers 
were searching locations to settle upon ; 
all exhibited enterprise and activity. 
Attracted by the beauty of the forest, I 
took a gun and stole away from this 
busy scene, to indulge in a few hours of 
solitude. Following the course of the 
main branch of the valley for two miles, 
I came to a brook of pure water, up 
which I proceeded some three miles. 
It flowed through a sequestered valley, 
the rays of the sun scarcely penetrating 
through the branches of the hemlocks. 
I suddenly came upon a small opening, 
embracing some three or four acres of 
cleared ground, part of which was oc- 
cupied with a crop of corn and pota- 
toes. Near the centre stood a small 
but neatly constructed log hut, upon 
the timbers of which were stretched a 
number of deer-skins to dry. 

I met the owner at the door. He 
was an elderly man, in the garb of a 
hunter, composed entirely of dressed 
deer-skins. He saluted me kindly, and 
invited me into his forest home, the 
furniture of which, like his dress, dis- 
played the primitive simplicity of his life. 
A bedstead, constructed of pieces of 
saplings, supported on natural crotches, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


223 


strewed with a profusion of hemlock 
boughs, and covered with a few tanned 
deer and bear-skins, formed his couch. 
A large round block, hewed smooth on 
the top, answered for a table, and two 
smaller ones for chairs. A bucket, 
wooden bowl, and camp kettle finished 
the inventory. 

I paid the old hunter several visits, 
spending many days with him, and 
became much attached to him. I found 
him intelligent, honest, kind-hearted, 
and happy. He proved very communi- 
cative, relating many thrilling scenes of 
his back-wood’s life, for he had spent 
sixty years in the wilderness. I will 
relate one of the earliest of his ad- 
ventures, as nearly as possible in 
his own words : — 

“You may wonder that I have not 
chosen some fine tract of land, out of 
the vast portions I have passed over in 
my rambles, and turned farmer; but 
my pursuits it this life were decided 
by an incident, which I will relate 
to you in a few words. When I was 
nine years of age, my father resided 
on the waters of the Susquehannah. 
We had a fine clearing, planted with 
corn, then in ear. A bear had visited 
it several times, destroying much of 
it, having escaped the vigilance of my 
father, who had watched very per- 
severingly for the thief. On a Thurs- 
day afternoon (I well remember the 
day, though sixty years have passed 
over my head since), a meeting was 
to be held at the house of one of our 
acquaintances, about four miles dis- 
tant ; my father, mother, and elder 
brother went, leaving my younger 
brother, Edwin, at home with me. 
They concluded not to return until 


the moon rose, which would be at 
about eleven o’clock. As soon as they 
were out of sight, I took down the 
gun, and went to the corner of the 
fence, near where the bear generally 
entered to steal the corn. My brother 
Ned concealed himself in the bushes 
next to the fence. We watched pa- 
tiently until near dusk ; but no bear 
appeared. We returned to the house, 
kindled a fire, ate a piece of corn bread, 
and returned to our post. About one 
hour after dark, I heard a light rustKng 
of leaves, and then the snapping of 
small twigs. The sound came from 
the same direction in which the bear 
was in the habit of approaching. Soon 
I saw a dark object appear ; I raised 
the gun, being as much as I could well 
lift, at arm’s length, and fired. I 
dropped it, and ran for the house. I 
heard my little brother cry, which 
caused me to run back. He had not 
moved, but pointed through the fence 
I saw a small black object, and mus 
tered courage to get over. I raised it, 
and found it a small bear. It was 
alive. I pushed it through the fence to 
my brother, and we bore it in tri- 
umph to the house, where we shut 
it up in a chest. Many a peep 
we took in that chest before my fa- 
ther and mother returned. By and 
by they came. I ran out to meet 
them, and related my exploit. , As 
soon as my father entered the house, 
he took out the little cub, examined 
it, and laughed heartily at me, as it 
was not wounded. He then asked 
me fo& the gun.' I remembered I 
had left it at the fence. We all 
went to the scene of the encounter. 
The moon was up, and it was very 


224 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


light. As we looked into the field, 
a large bear lay there lifeless. I 
had wounded her, and she had pro- 
bably run at first from the pain of 
the wound, but had returned to seek 
her cub, and died within a few feet 
of where she was shot. 

“ My fame soon spread all over the 
settlement. I was complimented by 
all. This excited my pride, and I 
procured a rifle. From that day I 
have done little else but hunt, pass- 


ing my whole life in the woods. I 
really think I could not have spent 
it as contentedly elsewhere. You may 
perhaps think me ignorant. I am 
ignorant of books ; but I assure you 
there is an excellent school in this 
forest, and one which teaches the 
wisdom of the Almighty in the most 
impressive manner. Perhaps I shall 
convince you that I have studied in 
this school to some purpose.” 

N. W. 



The Cormorant. 


Cormorant belongs to the 
family of gulls. It is about the 
WL size of a large Muscovy duck, 
and may be distinguished from 
all other birds of this kind, by its four 
toes being toothed, or notched, like a 
saw, to assist it in holding its fishy 
prey. The head and neck of this bird 
are of a sooty blackness ; and the body 


thick and heavy, moie inclining in 
figure to that of the goose than the gull. ) 
The bill is straight, till near the end, 
where the upper part bends into a nook, j 
They are very expert in catching fish, 
and used to be trained in England so i 
that they would fish for their masters. 
Indeed, if we mistake not, they are 
still used in China for this purpose. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


225 


A gentleman who had visited China 
several years ago, described the manner 
in which these birds performed their 
task. He says, “ The birds are edu- 
cated as men rear up spaniels or hawks, 
and one man can easily manage a 
hundred. The fisher carries them out 
into the lake, perched on the gunnel of 
his boat, where they continue tranquil, 
and expecting his orders with patience. 
When arrived at the proper place, at 
the first signal given, each flies a dif- 
ferent way to fulfill the task assigned it. 
It is very pleasing, on this occasion, to 
observe with what sagacity they por- 
tion out the lake or the canal where 
they are upon duty. They hunt about, 
they plunge, they rise a hundred times 
to the surface, until they have at last 
found their prey. They then seize it 
with their beak by the middle, and 
carry it to their master. When the 
fish is too large they give each other 
mutual assistance ; one seizes it by the 
head, the other by the tail, and thus 
carry it to the boat together. There 
the boatman stretches out one of his long 
oars, on which they perch, and on being 
delivered of their burden, they fly off to 
continue their sport. When wearied, 
he allows them to rest for a while ; but 
they are never fed till their work is 
over. In this manner they supply a 
very plentiful table ; but still, their nat- 
ural gluttony cannot even be reclaimed 
by education. They have always, 
while they fish, a string fastened round 
their throats, to prevent them from de- 
vouring their prey, or otherwise they 
would at once satiate themselves, and 
discontinue their pursuit the moment 
they had done so.” 

The great activity with which it pur- 


sues, and from a vast height drops down 
to dive after its prey, offers one of the 
most amusing spectacles to those who 
stand upon a cliff on the shore. 

It sometimes happens that the Cor- 
morant has caught the fish by the tail, 
and consequently the fins prevent its 
being easily swallowed in that position. 
In this case, the bird may be observed 
to toss its prey above its head, and very 
dexterously catch it, when descending, 
by the proper end, and to swallow it 
with ease. 


The Oak and the Insect. 

t N oak was tormented with a worm 
that had eaten into his vitals, and 
was gnawing at its very heart. 
In vain did the haughty tree 
wring, and twist, and groan in the wind ; 
it had no means of reaching the insect. 
At last, a little woodpecker alighted on 
the tree, and heard its grievous wail- 
ing. Guessing the cause of the trouble, 
he began to drum with his long bill 
upon the bark of the tree, and soon 
he heard the worm shrinking from 
detection. Thus he discovered his 
prey, and putting his barbed longue 
into a hole, he lanced the worm through 
the body, and pulled him out in an 
instant. Thus the mighty oak was 
relieved by a very humble bird, and 
thus the great and the powerful may 
be benefited by the weak and insig- 
nificant. — Selected. 


“ That man best deserves a kindness, 
who, when he is put off, beareth it 
patiently; when he is refused, excuses 
it; when he receives it, is thankful.” 


226 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


« \ ur friend, Rev. C. H. A. Bulkley, 
to whom our readers are indebted 
If for the beautiful poem in our 
last number, under the caption of 
“Thoughts of the Little Star-Gazer,” 
has written a poem of considerable 
length, entitled “Niagara,” which will 
probably be published in a volume. We 
have examined portions of it, and if a 
judgment of the whole can be predicated 
from these specimens, we have not a 
doubt that this will be acknowledged to 
be one of the most successful efforts of 
the kind that have been recently at- 
tempted. We hope the poem will soon 
be published. There certainly is very 
much of the soul of poetry in Mr. Bulk- 
ley’s efforts, or we are sadly mistaken. 
He does not write to make a book. This 
is evident enough, to even a careless 
reader. He writes because he cannot 
help it. And, after all, it is difficult to 
create a poem worth reading in any 
5ther way. You cannot manufacture 
poetry as you would a spade or a wheel- 
barrow. It must come from the heart, 
very like the flowing of water. It must 
not be ground out of the intellect, as 
flour comes from the grist-mill. People 
may think what they please, and say 
what they please, about this same mat- 
ter of poetry ; but, in our way of think- 
ing, just the stupidest, dryest, huskiest 
piece of literary nonsense that ever 
blundered into this planet, is your merely 
intellectual poem; and we advise all 
men, women, and children, who do not 
want a chronic literary dyspepsia, to 
keep clear of those who teach meta- 
physics, plain and spherical trigonome- 
try, and conic sections in their poems. 


In this connection, however, it is pro- 
per to state, that, not exactly belonging 
to the faculty, we give advice gratis. 

By the way, speaking of second and 
third-rate poets, reminds us of an im- 
promptu which has just come under our 
observation, written on a recent robbery. 
It runs thus : 

My friend, I’ve been robbed ! 

“ How I pity your grief!” 

All my manuscript’s gone ! 

“ How I pity the thief!” 


By the w*ay, again — or in other words, 
perhaps, still farther out of the way — 
Coleridge has written a pretty caustic 
couplet about certain gentry of the same 
school : 

“ Swans sing before they die — ’twere no bad 
thing, 

Did certain persons die before they sing.” 

We had a most delightful visit the 
other day, at the Institution for the Deaf 
and Dumb, in this city. The occasion 
was one of interest, it being the quarterly 
examination of the Board of Directors. 
The day was very pleasant, and a*party, 
consisting of upwards of two hundred 
guests, were entertained in a manner 
which reflected great credit on the man- 
agers of the institution and the pupils. 
The exercises in the chapel were of a 
character so interesting, that we should 
give a detailed account of them to our 
readers, if it were not for the account 
of a similar meeting furnished by a cor- 
respondent, which we will publish in 
our next number. At some future time, 
however, we mean to tell our own story 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


227 


about this institution. By the way, of 
these pupils, two hundred and eight in 
number, upwards of sixty are subscri- 
, bers to the Youth’s Cabinet. 

Mr. Bradbury, the gentleman who is 
so successful in teaching the little folks 
to sing, has just sailed for Germany. He 
had a farewell concert before leaving, 
and some eight hundred of his juvenile 
singers delighted a very large audience 
with their music. During the evening, 
a beautiful gold watch was presented to 
Mr. Bradbury, by his pupils. The sing- 
ing of the following farewell song, writ- 
ten for the occasion, by one pretty well 
known to the readers of the Cabinet, 
the music of which may be found on the 
last page, closed the entertainment : 

Now ere we part, 

With voice and heart, 

We would our kindest wishes tell — 

We come to say 
F arewell to-day ; 

But, oh ! ’tis sad to say farewell. 

We ne’er shall let 
Our hearts forget 

Our absent teacher, fond and true — 

We’ll think of thee, 

When o’er the sea 
Thy bark is wafted from our view. 

Heaven bless the gale 
That fills thy sail, 

While thou art bounding o’er the main — 
For thee each day 
Shall children pray, 

Until we greet thee home again. 

Each cherished song, t 
Remembered long, 

As oft we sing it o’er and o’er — 

Shall speak of thee, 

Beyond the sea, 

Far from thy home and native shore. 


’Tis sweet to know, 

Where’er we go, 

Bright angels may our steps attend — 

O from above, 

May God in love 

To thee some guardian angel send. 

When life is o’er, 

And we no more 

Shall sing the strains we love to hear — 
Then may we rise 
Above the skies 

And sing the song of angels there. 

But must we say 
Farewell to-day? 

Must we our last sad greeting tell ? 
Then as we part, 

F rom voice and heart, 

Receive our kind, though sad farewell 


Mr. Editor, — Please to correct an 
error in the June number, page 191. 
You inform little folks that the title of 
Majesty, in addressing the sovereigns 
of England, was first used in the time 
of Henry XIII. I suppose you mean 
Henry VIII. My son could not recol- 
lect when Henry XIII. reigned, and I 
had to explain the matter, by assuring 
him it was an error in the printing. 

A SUBSCRIBER. 


Mr. Editor, — As your Long Island 
correspondent has requested some of 
your readers to arrange the numbers 
from one to twenty-five, or the square 
of five, so as to make sixty-five, if added 
together in eight different ways, and 
has given the rule for solving all such 
cases, I have been occupying some of 
■ my leisure moments in trying some dif- 
ferent numbers, and find that the square 
of five can be made, not only to add up 


228 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


and make sixty-five in eight, but in 
twelve, different ways. I would not 
think of troubling you, however, was I 
not of the impression that I had made an 
additional discovery. If I have not, and 
any of your numerous readers are ahead 
of me, you may consign this to the rub- 
bish department, as I do not intend it 
shall cost you any thing but the trouble 
of reading it. Here is my diagram : 

65 65 

65 


65 


65 
65 
65 

65 65 65 65 65 65 65 

An examination of this diagram will 
show that the figures can be added to- 
gether, consecutively, in twelve different 
ways, and the sum will be sixty-five. 

Yours, truly, 

CAROLINE TERESA. 


11 

\ 

24 

7 

20 

/ 

,3' 

/ 

4 

12 

s 

25 

,8'' 

16 

17 

5 

13' 

✓ \ 

21 

9 

10 

18 

1 

14 

22 

,23 

/ 

6 

19 

2 

15 

\ 

\ 


Frenchman, and distinguished as an 
excellent preacher and a good histo- 
rian. My 11, 38, 12, 28, 60, 47, 20, 
noted as a poet and moralist, flourished 
in the seventeenth century. My 42, 
36, 37, 53, 10, 17, was the name of 
two brothers, distinguished as anato- 
mists, who lived in Great Britain in 
the eighteenth century. My 16, 21, 
36, 20, 13, 12, 54, 32, 56, 22, 48, 18, 
58, was a French naturalist and histo- 
rian, and the author of a work on natu- 
ral history, in fifteen volumes. My 9, 
27, 38, 3, was distinguished as a states- 
man and a politician. He was chan- 
cellor of England, and the author of a 
celebrated history. My 52, 10, 40, 
49, 8, was a gentleman, by whose 
eloquence the great ball of the “revo-< 
lution” was moved. w. m, k. 


ANSWER TO THE LAST CONUNDRUM. 

A correspondent says, in answer to 
the conundrum in the last number, that 
he much doubts that Moses was the 
most wicked man that ever lived in the 
world, though he did break all the com- 
mandments at once . 


ENIGMA— No. IV. 

I am a sentence of sixty-one letters. 
My 13, 61, 45, 6, 16, 40, 3, 44, 31, 25, 
58, was a distinguished philosopher. 
My 60, 50, 7, 19, 15, 24, 41, 10, 26, 
49, 6, 24, 33, 39, 23, 4, was a scholar 
and soldier, who suffered tyrannical 
punishment in the reign of James I. of 
England. My 51, 43, 35, 7, 23, 54, 
19, 2, 30, 41, 54, 34, 13, 59, 24, 12, 
was a remarkable preacher. My 32, 
55, 14, 57, 61, 3, 53, was an eminent 


CHARADE— No. Ill/ 

My first — a Latin word — advances 
civilization, and is equally strong in 
breaking or binding human ties. 

My second is most important to my- 
self. 

My third is indispensable to some 
watch-wheels. 

My fourth it pleases better to give 
than to take. 

My fifth is a feminine objective. 

My whole aids in giving significance 
to language. h. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


229 


ANSWER TO THE LAST CHARADE. 

Thy first no statesman can control, 

If he possess the patriot’s soul, 

While the divine who hopes to win 
A fallen man from depths of sin, 

To Party favor ne’er will bow. 

Sacred with God, he keeps his vow, 

And belle and dame need never roam, 

To shine beyond the sphere of home. 

Then in thy second, plain we see 
Our likeness to divinity. 

Redeem’d, the Spirit pure will rise 
To seek its home amid the skies. 

’Tis vile, and doom’d to suffer where 
Are heard the wailings of despair ; 

How great the power for good and ill, 
That work’d in us to do God’s will. 

But strife and direful discord spread 
Whene’er thy first and second wed. 

The altar Party Spirit rears, 

Receives the sacrifice of tears ; 

Since all that can imbitter life 
Is mingled with the demon strife, 

In which, to win a transient fame, 

Men barter truth, and peace, and name. 

Q 

The little' sketch of “The Seasons,” 
on page 202, was written by Master T. 
C. Havemeyer, of this city, one of our 
subscribers, of about the age of fourteen 
years. Though not written with any 
view of publication, the article is well 
worthy a place among the efforts of 
heads somewhat older. 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

Several articles, on file for insertion, 
will appear soon. “An Hour with 
the Deaf and Dumb,” — already, from 
having been mislaid, too long delayed — 
shall be published in our nex{ number. 
“The Autobiography of an old Cat,” — 
we don’t know about that. The veter- 
an has had some hair-breadth ’scapes, 
truly. The grammatical article shall 


appear in our next. So of “Wood- 
Gathering,” — perhaps — perhaps not. 

Now we think of it, we wish our 
friends, who write to the editor and 
publisher on the same sheet, would re- 
member that both wish to preserve sep- 
arate files of their letters respectively. 

We are trying very hard to make 
our Cabinet of good things more in- 
teresting and attractive than it has 
been. Our pages are now enriched 
with excellent contributions from sev- 
eral of the best writers for the young 
in the country. But we have just 
added the name of T. S. Arthur to 
our list of original contributors, and 
intend to give our readers a very 
pretty story of his about the Robin in 
our next number. We are also having 
his autograph engraved, and shall pre- 
sent this probably at the same time. 
Mr. Arthur’s reputation as a writer 
for children, warrants us in promising 
a rich treat from the efforts of his pen. 

A young subscriber writes to inquire 
if the picture of the Man with the Mag- 
net, on the cover, is a portrait of the 
editor, and to request that, if it is not, 
such a portrait may be furnished for the 
Cabinet. We believe the artist did not 
attempt to get a likeness in this engrav- 
ing. If he did, he certainly failed. 
For the rest, we will think of it. 


0^7“ Correspondents of the Youth’s 
Cabinet will please to bear in mind 
that the duties of an editor and pub- 
lisher are quite distinct. Those letters 
only which relate to the editorial de- 
partment, should be addressed to Fran- 
cis C. Woodworth. 


230 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Farewell Song.* 


SUNG- AT BRADBURY’S CONCERT— POETRY BY THEODORE THINKER— MUSIC BY T. H. BAYEY. 


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fill i i i i h i r i 

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part, With voice and heart, We would our kind-ly wish-es 




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2. Heaven bless the gale That fills thy sail, While thou art bounding o’er the 


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main. For thee each day, Shall children pray, Until we greet thee home a - 

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o’er, Shall speak of thee, Beyond the sea, Far from thy home and native shore. 


* For the remaining stanzas, see page 227. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


231 


Random Thoughts on Fishing. 

BY THE MAN WITH THE MAGNET. 


fter all, I confess 
I have no parti- 
cular aversion to 
catching a trout 
or two occasion- 
ally. I rather 
like the task — Dr. Johnson’s definition 
of a fishing-rod to the contrary not- 
withstanding. You recollect that sage 
definition : “ A fishing-rod is a stick 
with a hook at one end and a fool at 
the other.” Bravo ! I have laughed 


at the wit of the thing a great many 
times. But, to my knowledge, it never 
weakened my relish much in the 
amusement. Nay, I am not perfectly 
sure but the laughing aforesaid has 
occurred when I was up to my knees 
in water, teazing a dainty pickerel to 
bite. Now I do not wish to dispute 
so great a doctor as the one who uttered 
this oracle. I can find other wind-mills 
to fight, plenty of them. But I venture 
to hint, modestly, that some of the trout 




THE FISHERMAN. 


with whom I have been acquainted in 
my day, would hardly have been en- 
ticed from their native element by a 
fool. Even the doctor, with all his 
wisdom, methinks, might have had his 
cunning taxed to the utmost, if he had 
attempted to catch these fellows. I 
have no idea of quarreling with the 
definition, though. It is excellent. But, 
as I was saying a moment ago, this 
business of fishing, once in a while, 
is not a very disagreeable employ- 
ment to me. I like it. What is the 
use of mincing the matter ? I do 
take not a little delight in introducing 
Vot. II. 8 


a mammoth black-fish, for instance, to 
a new element. It has been objected 
that the fish themselves are not par- 
tial to these introductions. Very like. 
But if they should happen to escape 
the fisherman, they would probably 
fall into the jaws of some greedy 
shark or other. Besides, it is a part 
of their business to thin out the ranks 
of the smaller fish. And I want to 
know — as it is mercy to the poor fish 
that many people say so much about — 
I want to know why we can’t afford 
a little mercy for the lower classes. 
Look at the aristocracy of the thing. 


232 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


How does it come to pass that a great 
fish is so much more deserving of 
mercy than a little one ? I pause for 
a reply. 

Meanwhile, I will sit me down and 
watch that enthusiastic man who has 
waded a few yards into the pond, with 
a long pole in his hand. He is bait- 
ing his hook, by the looks of things. 
I wonder if it is the hook which has 
recently been invented and patented 
by Mr. Brown, of New York. He 
has a hook which is set like a trap, 
and which springs when the fish strikes 
it. It is a murderous thing, though, 
and makes the angler’s success too cer- 
tain. 

I love to watch a skillful angler; 
and this is one, I imagine. He has 
prepared a rare morsel for that pick- 
erel reposing under the leaves of the 
pond lily, depend upon it. Now he 
throws his line. How skillfully the 
thing is done. He has read Izaak 
Walton’s Complete Angler, I guess. 
At any rate, he has handled the fish- 
ing-rod before. The bait now skims 
along on the surface of the water. 
Hush! not a word. A pretty good 
imitation of the frolicking of a silly 
little shiner, that. Watch the coun- 
tenance of the angler — of that “fool” 
at the larger end of the rod. Con- 
sidering he is a fool, there is a great 
deal of expression in that brow. On 
skims the bait. The wide-mouthed 
^pickerel will not take it this time. 
Perhaps he is not hungry. Perhaps 
he is chasing his friends, the shiners, 
about the pond — in sport, you know — 
merely in sport. These pickerel are 
great sportsmen. The worst of it is, 
though, .they never can make their 


young friends believe they are play 
ing hide and seek with them. There f 
there ! what does that splashing in the 
water mean ? The cunning old fel- 
low has leaped for the bait. Now, 
take care! there, he has hooked him! 
Now comes the tug of war. Here is 
rather a difficult piece of business for 
a fool. Look at the man’s face now. 
Not too fast, sir. Humor the fellow 
a little. There he comes. A fine 
pickerel, that. Five pounds, at the 
very least, it may be, six. “Wel- 
come, illustrious stranger, welcome to 
our shores,” as Daniel Webster once 
said on a similar occasion, when he 
was conning over the speech he was 
to make at the reception of La Fayette. 
That pickerel will make a dinner for 
a family of half a dozen ; and a very 
delicious dinner it will be, too. I 
should not have the slightest objection 
to aid in discussing it. 

But how can a man, possessed of 
any degree of the kinder feelings of 
humanity, enjoy a species of amuse- 
ment which is the occasion of so much 
pain? Well, I confess I should not 
take so much delight in fishing, if I 
believed the victims of my powers of 
persuasion had all those delicate sen- 
sibilities which many people ascribe to 
them. I do not believe they have. The 
fish is very low in the scale of animal 
life. Is it rational to suppose that he 
feels pain as keenly as a deer or a fox ? 
But waiving the philosophy of the 
thing, look at the facts. What an- 
gler of any experience has not caught 
the same sun-fish twice within a couple 
of minutes ? That fish must have a 
very blunted nervous sensibility, who 
will have his jaw torn with a hook, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


and seize it again as soon as it falls 
into the water. 

Some years ago, two young gentle- 
men were fishing in a lake, I believe 
for perch, and their stock of bait be- 
came exhausted. They then picked 
out the eyes of the dead perch, and 
baited their hooks with them. It is 
well known by most fishermen that 
many fish will take such a bait as 
soon as any other. These gentlemen 
caught several perch in this manner. 
One of the fish so caught, struggled 
a good deal as the angler was remov- 
ing him from the hook ; and in the 
struggle the hook was loosened, and 
came in contact with one of the eyes 
of the perch, which was torn out, and 
the perch slipped through the angler’s 
fingers and was lost overboard. The 
hook, with this bait upon it, was 
thrown into the water, and in a few 
minutes the fugitive was caught again, 
having taken his own eye for a bait! 
What do you think of that, Mr. Philan- 
thropist ? 

I confess, moreover, that I should 
not take half the delight I now do in 
fishing, if my aquatic friends did not 
add greatly to the interest of a dinner. 
When I throw my line into the water, 
I consider the act in the light of an 
invitation for them to dine with me. 
They are extremely pleasant com- 
panions at the table. I should hardly 
know how to get along without their 
company, in the summer, especially. 

I never placed a temptation in the 
way of a fish in my life, as I recol- 
lect, unless’ I thought him capable of 
playing his part at the table. 

On the whole, there are a great 
many kinds of amusement current in 


233 

the world, that are much less inno- 
cent than this of angling. So thought 
the pious old Walton (though I am 
not so enthusiastic as he, by a long 
way) two hundred years ago, when 
he wrote 

Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink 
Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place, 
Where I may see my quill on cork down 6ink 
With eager bite of perch, or trout, or dace. 
And on the world and my Creator think, 

While some men strive ill-gotten goods to 
embrace, 

And others spend their time in base excess 
Of wine— or worse, in war, or wantonness. 


The little Prisoner. 

A FABLE. 

BY JOHN MILTON STEARNS. 

A Robin in a rural land, 

Sings strains so beautiful ar.d varied, 

That travelers listen, as they stand, 

And wonder by what music band 
Their hearts away are carried. 

Once, little Susan, standing there, 

Was charmed, and wished this pretty bird 
Were her’s, encaged, her food to share, 

The subject of her kindest care, 

Whose sweetest songs would then be heard 

Well, fortune gave her heart’s desire ; 

Her Robin, captured from the glen, 

Was prisoner ! — but its music-fire 
Departed, and its charming lyre 
Was lost in death-like silence then 

Then little Susan, all in tears, 

Most anxious, asked her father why 
The drooping bird refused to sing, 

While it was living like a king 
Beneath her ever watchful eye ? 

Ah, daughter, selfishness deceives, 

And cheats us of the good we crave 
The bird, for which my Susan grieves, 

Might sing most sweet among the trees, 

But not while held a prisoned slave. 


234 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



Curious Shells. 


f ^HAT an endless variety there is 
jw among shells ; and some of 
| them are very beautiful, too. 
* We have given sev'eral dif- 
ferent species in the engraving. Those 
of our readers who have taken a walk 
on the sea-shore, have seen a great 
many of these curious shells on the 
beach. But shells do not exclusively 
belong to the inhabitants of the wa- 
ter; several species of snails are pro- 
vided with this protecting covering, 
and also the tortoise and armadillo. 
Animals, too, that live both in the 
water and on land are protected by 
shells of such strength as to defy the 
stroke of the sabre, or the spear, or 
even the shot of musketry. Such are 
the crocodile, the alligator, and some 
other animals. But to the greatest ex- 
tent, shells are found to be the cov- 
ering of immense multitudes of crea- 


tures whose residence is confined to 
water, either salt or fresh. 

<s that branch of na- 
tural history wh.ch treats of shells — 
which distributes, divides, and classi- 
fies them into their different genera 
and species, and which describes the 
character, economy, and habits of 
those animals which live in them. 
A very little attention and thought 
will show that it is a subject of im- 
mense interest, and at the same time 
exceedingly amusing and profitable. 
How evident the truth of this remark, 
when we attend to the variety of 
forms which shells exhibit, and tr 
the splendid and matchless richness 
of their covering. On this account 
we need not be surprised that they 
have so often attracted the notice and 
excited the admiration of the curious 
observer.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


235 


The Children and the Robin. 

BY T. 8. ARTHUR. 


« jkHE snow had been falling steadi- 
I ly since morning, and the earth 
M was covered to the depth of 
^ several inches. Late in the af- 
ternoon, as little Mary Wilson, and her 
brothers Thomas and Edward, were 
sitting near the grate in the parlor, 
they heard a fluttering noise against 
the windows. On looking around, they 
saw a bird, with his wings outspread 
and his breast pressed against one 
of the panes of glass, at which he 
was now beginning to peck with his 
slender bill. 

“ Oh ! a robin, a robin redbreast !” 
exclaimed Mary, clapping her hands 
together. And all the children started 
up and ran toward the window. 

“ There ! he’s gone !” said Mary, 
in a disappointed voice, as she stop- 
ped suddenly. 

“ Let us open the windows, and 
then all go and sit quietly down upon 
the sofa,” said Thomas. 

So the children opened the win- 
dows, and went and sat down upon 
the sofa, as Thomas had suggested. 
In a little while the robin came back 
and lit upon the window sill. The 
children did not stir nor make a noise; 
and soon he hopped down upon the 
floor, and went and hid himself in a 
corner of the room, behind a large 
chair. 

“ Go and shut the window, brother,” 
whispered Mary to Edward; and Ed- 
ward went softly* to the window and 
shut it down, after which he returned 
to the sofa, and with Mary and Thom- 
as, remained very quiet. It was not 


long before the warmth of the room 
made robin feel better: so he came 
out from his hiding place, and stood 
for about a minute, turning his head 
from one side to the other, and appear- 
ing to examine every object in the 
room with his little dark, expressive 
eyes. Satisfied at last, he took three 
running hops, which brought him into 
the middle of the room, where he 
made another pause, and took another 
survey. Mary said, in a gentle voice, 

“ Robin ! Robin !” 

The bird was frightened, and flut- 
tered back to its hiding place. But, 
as the children remained very still, it 
soon came out once more and hopped 
into the middle of the room. Mary 
again said, 

“ Robin ! Robin !” 

The bird started, and stood turning 
its head from one side to the other, as 
before. But it did not run back into 
the corner this time. Presently it 
began picking up some crumbs of 
cake which the nurse had let the 
baby scatter on the floor. I cannot 
tell you how much the children were 
pleased at this. They could hardly 
help clapping their hands and shout- 
ing for joy. But they restrained them- 
selves, for fear of frightening little 
robin redbreast, and called him in low 
voices, saying, 

“ Robin! Robin! Dear little robin 
redbreast !” 

The bird seemed to understand that 
they spoke kindly to him, for he hop- 
ped toward them a little way, and 
I then stopped and turned his head, as 


236 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


before, from side to side. It was not 
a great while before he would permit 
himself to be taken up in their hands, 
and let them smooth his soft feathers. 

“I’ll ask papa to buy us a cage, as 
soon as he comes home,” said Ed- 
ward. 

“ To put poor robin in ?” asked 
Mary, looking with earnest eyes into 
her brother’s face. 

“Yes, indeed! We’ll keep him in 
a pretty cage, and he shall sing for 
us.” 

“Oh, no!” returned Mary. “We 
won’t shut poor little robin redbreast 
up in a cage.” 

“ Why not ?” asked Edward. “ What 
will we do with him ?” 

“We’ll let him fly out of the win- 
dow whenever he wants to go. It 
would be cruel to shut him up in a 
little cage.” 

“But papa will get us a big cage.” 

“The biggest cage you can get, 
would be a small place along side of 
the fields and woods. Oh, no ! Don’t 
think of putting robin redbreast into 
a cage. We will feed him, and then 
open the window and let him go away 
again. The ground is all covered 
with snow, and he cannot find any 
thing to eat in the fields. He will 
come back to us every day while the 
snow is on the ground; and we will 
feed him every day. He has come 
to us, and trusted in us. Don’t let 
us deceive him.” 

“If you let him go, you will never 
see him again,” said Thomas, who 
felt much nrore in favor of Edward’s 
proposition. 

“Oh, yes! I am sure we will. 
But even if he should never come 


back, he has done us no wrong. He 
doesn’t belong to us. We have no 
right to rob him of his freedom, and 
shut him up in a cage.” 

“He’ll be a great deal better in a 
cage than out in the cold winter. He 
will freeze to death before spring,” 
urged Thomas. 

“No, he wo’nt. When he’s cold 
and hungry, he will come and tap at 
the window as he did to-day ; and we 
will let him in, and feed him and 
warm him. Oh! I am sure it will 
make us a thousand times happier to 
do this than it will to shut him up in 
a wire prison.” 

For a long time the children talked, 
over the fate of the robin that had 
trusted himself in their hands- Ma- 
ry’s better counsels prevailed. After 
he had eaten as much as he wanted, 
and had rested for half an hour in 
Mary’s lap, the window was opened, 
and away he flew. 

“Good bye, robin redbreast,” said 
Thomas. “I hardly think we shall 
ever see you again.” 

“ Oh ! yes, we will. I know- he 
will come back again,” spoke up Ma- 
ry, quickly. “We shall see him to- 
morrow.” 

Thomas was very doubtful about it, 
and said he was sorry they hadn’t 
kept the bird until their father came 
home, and then asked him for a cage 
to put it in. « We’ll not have another 
chance, soon, to get so nice a bird,” 
he said. 

When papa came home, and the 
children told him about the robin, he 
said that he was very glad they had 
done as Mary suggested, and let 
the bird go at liberty — that it would 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


237 


have been cruel to shut him in a cage, 
when he had been all his life a free 
bird in the woods and fields. 

On the next morning, all the clouds 
had disappeared from the sky, and the 
sun was again out brightly. But it 
was very cold, and the snow lay deep 
upon the ground. 

“ Robin hasn’t come yet,” said Ed- 
ward, about ten o’clock. He still felt 
as if he would like to have the bird 
in a cage. 

“Robin isn’t going to come,” re- 
turned Thomas. 

“Wait awhile,” said Mary, in her 
soft and gentle way. *“Wait awhile. 
I don’t give up robin yet. See !” 
she added, in a quick, exulting voice; 
M there he is, now ! I knew he would 
come.” 

And as she spoke, robin lighted 
down upon the window sill, and with 
his red breast touching the glass, 
pecked for admission. 

We need not say how quickly the 
window was thrown open, with glad 
and welcome exclamations. The bird 
did not seem in the least afraid, but 
stepped upon Mary’s hand, and was 
lying, in an instant after, pressed gem 
tly to her bosom. Thomas ran into 
the dining room for some crumbs, 
while Edward stood looking admir- 
ingly at the little creature that lay 
so full of confidence on his sister’s 
breast. 

“ Shut dear, good robin up in a 
cage !” said Mary, touching her lips 
to the bird. “No, no, indeed! They 
shall not put him in a cage.” 

Thomas brought some crumbs, and 
held them in his hand to the bird. 
Robin was hungry, and picked away 


at them eagerly ; while the chlildren 
looked on with delight. After he had 
eaten as much as he wanted, they 
gave him some water, into which he 
dipped his delicate bill. Then he 
hopped about the room, and seemed 
to feel quite at home. In about an* 
hour, they opened the window for 
him, but robin found his quarters so 
comfortable, that he had no wish to 
leave them. He perched himself up- 
on the back of a qhair, and looked at 
the window, but made no attempt to 
fly out; so they let him stay as long 
as he pleased, which was for several 
hours. Then he pecked at the win- 
dow, and Mary opened it, when he 
flew off as swiftly as his wings could 
carry him. 

Every day, as long as the snow 
remained upon the ground, the bird 
came and tapped on the window with 
his bill, for admission. There was 
always some one ready to let him in, 
and give him the crumbs of bread he 
sought. Sometimes he would come 
while the family were eating their 
dinner or breakfast, and then he was 
sure to get upon the table beside 
Mary’s plate, and pick up the crumbs 
of bread she gave him. 

When the earth became bare again, 
robin did not visit his friends so often ; 
at last, as the spring opened, he ceased 
coming altogether. 

One sunny day, late in April, Mary 
had thrown open the window, and was 
sitting near it, listening to the birds 
that were singing joyfully among the 
trees, when, all at once, a pair of 
robins came fluttering down and lit 
upon the window sill. One of them 
she recognized in a moment. It was 


238 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


her old friend. From the window sill 
he flew to her hand, and then turned, 
and, as plain as a bird could do it, 
invited his companion to follow him. 
But she was more timid, and seemed 
to be uneasy. Robin staid but a few 
moments^ with Mary, and then flew 
back to his mate upon the window 
sill. Here they did not linger long, 
but soon spread their wings, and Mary 
saw them no more. 

When Mary told this pleasant inci- 
dent, Thomas and Edward were sur- 
prised and delighted beyond measure. 

“He brought his mate to see us! 
Oh! I wish I had been home,” said 
Thomas. 

“Robin is much happier than if he 
were shut up in a cage,” remarked 
Mary. “And I am sure we acted a 
more generous and honorable part with 
him than we would have done, if we 
had abused the confidence he placed 
in us, and made him a prisoner for 
life.” 

“It would have been cruel, I ac- 
knowledge,” said Thomas : “ and I am 
now very glad it was not done.” 

“And so am I,” responded Edward. 

“ Certainly, it would have been 
cruel, my children,” said the father, 
who had been listening to them. “We 
should never seek for pleasure at the 
cost of pain, either to our fellow-crea- 
tures, or to any animal. There are 
higher and better sources of pleasure 
than these, in which happiness to 
ethers is the consequence. I am sure 
you have all experienced a three-fold 
delight in witnessing the remarkable 
expression of gratitude in that bird, 
beyond' what you could possibly have 
known if you had robbed him of his 


liberty, and made him a prisoner in a 
narrow cage.” 



Phylacteries. 

ftmvERY one who is accustomed to 
JjKJ read the Bible, has noticed that 
WM our Saviour, in the twenty-third 
chapter of Matthew, speaks of the 
phylacteries which the Jews were ac- 
customed to wear at that time. In 
the last volume of the Cabinet, page 
236, we told our readers something 
about these phylacteries. They will 
perhaps remember what we said, and 
if they do not, they may turn to the 
place, and read it. A phylactery was 
a piece of parchment or linen, with 
portions of scripture written upon it. 
These badges were worn upon the 
forehead, wrist, and hem of the gar- 
ment. We gave a picture before of 
one on the wrist. The engraving 
above represents one worn on the 
forehead. We should always keep 
in mind the goodness of God, and 
should be very careful to obey all 
his commandments; but it is doubt- 
ful if such badges would be of much 
use to us in this respect, and there 
can be no piety in wearing them. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


239 



The Elephant, Wild and Tame. 


t T is very easy to tame the ele- 
phant. Here is a picture of one, 
with a platform on his back, and 
quite a number of people sitting 
upon it. We went the other day to 
see a very large elephant in this city. 
He weighed upwards of ten thousand 
pounds. 

The elephant, once tamed, becomes 
the most tractable and the most sub- 
| missive of all animals ; he conceives 
an affection for his leader, caresses 
him, and seems to guess whatever can 
please him : in a little time he under- 
stands signs, and even the expression 
of sounds; he distinguishes the tone 
of command, that of anger or good 
nature, and acts accordingly : he never 
mistakes the words of his master ; re- 
ceives his orders with attention, exe- 


cutes them with prudence and eager- 
ness, and without precipitation ; for 
his motions are always measured, and 
his character seems to participate in 
the gravity of his body ; he is easily 
taught to bend the knee to assist those 
who will ride on his back ; he caresses 
his friends with his trunk, and salutes 
with it the person he is directed to 
take notice of: he makes use of it to 
lift burdens, and helps to load him- 
self; he has no aversion t^ be clothed, 
and seems indeed to delight in a golden 
harness or magnificent trappings ; he 
is easily put to the traces of carts, 
and even draws ships upon occasion : 
he draws equally, without stopping, 
or any marks of dislike, provided he 
is not insulted by unseasonable cor- 
rection, and provided his driver seems 



240 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


to be thankful for the spontaneous 
exertion of his strength. His leader 
is mounted on his neck, and makes 
use of an iron rod crooked at the end, 
with which he strikes him gently on 
the head to make him turn or increase 
his pace; but often a word is suffi- 
cient, especially if he has had time 
to make himself well acquainted with 
his leader, and places confidence in 
him ; his attachment is sometimes so 
strong and so lasting, and his affec- 
tion so great, that commonly he re- 
fuses to serve under any other per- 
son, and is known to have died of 
grief for having in anger killed his 
governor. 

The trunk is capable of being moved 
in every direction, of being lengthened 
and shortened, of being bent or straight- 
ened ; so pliant as to embrace any body 
it is applied to, and yet so strong that 
nothing can be torn from the gripe. 
By means of this, the elephant can 
take a pin from the ground, untie the 
knots of a rope, unlock a door, and 
even write with a pen. “ I have my- 
self seen,” says one, “an elephant 
writing Latin characters on a board, 
in a very orderly manner, his keeper 
only showing him the figure of each 
letter. While thus employed, the eyes 
might be observed studiously cast down 
upon the writing, and exhibiting an 
appearance of great skill and erudi- 
tion.” 

The tusks of the elephant, as the 
animal grows old, become so heavy, 
that it is sometimes obliged to make 
holes in the walls of its stall to rest 
them in, and ease itself in the fatigue 
of their support. It is well known to 
what an amazing size these tusks 


grow ; they are two in number, pro- 
ceeding from the upper jaw, and are 
sometimes found above six feet long. 
When he eats hay, he takes up a 
small wisp with the trunk, turns and 
shapes it with that instrument for 
some time, and then directs it into 
the mouth, where it is chewed by the 
great grinding teeth, that are large in 
proportion to the bulk of the animal. 
Its manner of drinking is equally ex- 
traordinary. For this purpose, the 
elephant dips the end of its trunk into 
the water, and sucks up just as much 
as fills that great fleshy tube com- 
pletely. It then lifts up its head 
with the trunk full, and turning the 
point into its mouth, as if it intended 
to swallow trunk and all, drives the 
point below the opening of the wind- 
pipe. The trunk being in this posi- 
tion, and still full of water, the ele- 
phant blows strongly into it at the 
other end, which forces the water in- 
to the throat, down which it is heard 
to pour with a loud gurgling noise, 
which continues till the whole is blown 
down. 

The elephant is a native of Africa 
and Asia, being found neither in Eu- 
rope nor America. In Africa, he still 
retains his natural liberty. The sav- 
age inhabitants of that part of the 
world, instead of attempting to sub- 
due this powerful creature to their 
necessities, are happy in being able 
to protect themselves from his fury. 

It is said that when once wild ele- 
phants have been caught, and eluded 
the snares of their adversaries, if they 
are compelled to go into the woods, 
they are mistrustful, and break with 
their trunk a large branch, with which 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


241 



' they sound the ground before they put 
their foot upon it, to discover if there 
are any holes on their passage, not 
to be caught a second time; which 
made the hunters, who related this 
1 singularity, despair of catching again 
the three elephants who had escaped. 

“ We saw the other two which they 
had caught; each of them was be- 
tween two tame elephants ; and around 
the wild elephants were six men, hold- 
i ing spears. They spoke to these ani- 
' mals in presenting them something to 
eat, and telling them, in their lan- 
j guage, take this, and eat it. They 
< had small bundles of hay, bits of 
black sugar, or rice boiled in water, 

! with pepper. When the wild ele- 
I phant refused to do what he was or-/ 
| dered, the men commanded the tame 
elephants to beat him, which they did 
| immediately, one striking his fore- 
head with his; and when he seemed 
to aim at revenge against his aggress- 
or, another struck him ; so that the 
poor wild elephant perceived he had 
nothing to do but to obey. 

“At the Cape of Good Hope, it is 
customary to hunt these animals for 
the sake of their teeth. Three horse- 
men, well mounted, and armed with 
lances, attack the elephant alternately, 
each relieving the other, as they see 
their companion pressed, till the beast 
is subdued. Three Dutchmen, bro- 
thers, who had made large fortunes 
by this business, determined to re- 
tire to Europe, and enjoy the fruits 
' of their labors ; but they resolved, one 
day before they went, to have a last 
chase, by way of amusement : they 
met with their game, and began their 
attack in the usual manner; but, un- 


fortunately, one of their horses fell, 
and throwing his rider, the enraged 
elephant instantly seized the unhappy 
huntsman with his trunk, flung him 
up to a vast height in the air, and 
received him upon one of his tusks 
as he fell ; then, turning toward the 
other two brothers, as if it were with 
an aspect of revenge and insult, held 
out to them the impaled wretch, writh- 
ing in the agonies of death.” 


The Red and the White Roses. 

t N a litle farm house, shaded by old 
trees, lived the two sisters, Mary 
and Emma. By the door of the 
house was a flat stone, and over 
this a honeysuckle porch ; here these 
little sisters often in the summer after- 
noons sat and talked together, or 
listened to their kind mother, as she 
sang to them or instructed them. 

Within the little fence that sur- 
rounded the cottage were two small 
flower-gardens ; one was Mary’s, and 
the other Emma’s. They were care- 
fully tended, and planted always alike, 
except that in Mary’s garden bloomed 
a red rose, and in Emma’s a white 
one. 

While the cheeks of Mary glowed 
with health, those of Emma were very 
pale. She had never been strong, like 
other children. Often in their little 
toils would Emma’s limbs grow weary, 
and her feeble steps be directed toward 
her sister for support ; and then how 
kindly and tenderly would Mary lead 
her to the door-step for rest, or, if very 
weary, to her little bed, and there watch 
and sooth her into slumber ! 


242 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


It was beautiful to see the love these 
children bore each other. Out of doors, 
when tending and watering their flowers, 
their little faces full of innocent joy, 
they would converse pleasantly to- 
gether, and their young harmonious 
voices made sweet music ; for what 
music is more sweet than that which 
the tongue makes when it is tuned by 
love ? 

On a sweet summer afternoon, these 
children were seated together under 
the rustic porch. The sun’s last rays 
were thrown upon the windows and 
white walls, making them shine like 
gold. Whippoorwills sang in the trees. 
The mild blue eyes of the sisters shone 
joyfully as they talked. By and by 
Mary said, 

“ Now, sister, the sun is down ; let 
us water our flowers. My rose bush 
looks strong, does it not? How sweet 
the pinks smell ! Is it not lovely to- 
night, sister?” 

“ Yes,” answered Emma, “ very 
lovely. See those golden clouds around 
the setting sun ! They seem to me 
like bright thoughts round the dying.” 

And as Emma said this, one might 
have seen an expression in her face 
that told where her thoughts were 
tending. It was bright and heavenly. 

They watered their flowers. The 
sweet breath of pinks and violets, lilies 
and roses, was exhaled till the evening. 
“ Let us make a nosegay, dear sister,” 
said Mary, “ as an offering to our mo- 
ther. Here is a beautiful cluster of 
red roses ; now a white lilly ; then some 
of that sweet mignonette ; and do not 
forget the spray of white roses !” 

Emma turned to gather them. “My 
poor rose bush droops!” said she. It 


has always drooped like me ; is not 
that strange, Mary ?” 

“ Oh, no, dear Emma ! not at all 
strange ; the white rose is always 
difficult to rear. I dare say, in two 
or three summers more, it will be as 
flourishing and strong as mine. You 
must not be so desponding, Emma, it 
is not good for you.” 

“But, Mary,” said Emma; in re- 
turn, “ I often feel that I and my rose 
tree are alike, and that I am droop- 
ing, too. I have a strange feeling 
within me that tells me I never shall 
be well and strong ; that I shall never 
see my rose in bloom again !” 

“ Oh ! Emma, Emma ! why do you 
speak so ?” 

“ Because,” said she, “ I feel, I 
know that I am soon to die ! I have 
been very happy in this world, very 
happy, Mary, with you, and our dear 
father and mother, and kind neigh- 
bors to care for me, and love me. 
But I shall be happier when the time 
comes for me to go and be with the 
angels, and with God. Do not weep, 
Mary.” 

“ But you make me weep, Emma ; 
you make me unhappy.” But now, 
as Mary looked into her sister’s face, 
she saw that it was no longer pale. 
A bright flush was in her cheeks, 
and a clear sparkle was in her ear- 
nest eyes ! How beautiful she was ! 

“Dear Emma,” said Mary, “you 
are mistaken. I am sure you are mis- 
taken. Why, your cheeks are quite 
red — you look better every day. Sis- 
ter, dear, try to be cheerful, and you 
will soon be well and strong like me.” 

“No, Mary, I never shall be well 
again. It cannot be. But I will no 1 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


243 


talk about it any more, since it makes 
you so unhappy — only you must make 
me one promise.” 

“ What, Emma ?” 

“ That when I die — when they lay 
me in my lonely grave — you will plant 
this white rose tree there, and let it 
blossom every summer over my head.” 
“ Oh, Emma, Emma !” . 

“ But you promise it, dear Mary ? 
“Yes, yes.” 

It was a beautiful day in autumn. 
The little cottage where Mary and 
Emma lived had a small white-cur- 
tained window facing the south ; at 
that window, flowers were looking in ; 
the globe flower, the gay dahlia, and the 
sweet-brier, with its load of coral ber- 
ries The sweet, ripe air was blowing 
through their branches into the room. 

Who and what were in that room ? 
If you had looked within, you might 
have seen a little white-covered bed, 
and a young girl resting upon it, pale 
and emaciated. Near her stood weep- 
ing, her mother, her father, and her 
sister ; and some friends were also 
there. It was Emma. 

But why were they weeping ? She 
was going away ; a dear, kind friend 
had come to invite her far away, for 
many years, from her home, her pa- 
rents, and her sister Mary. Still she 
was glad to go with that friend, for it 
was an angel. 

“ Do not weep, dear father, dear 
mother ; Mary, Mary, do not weep ! 
If you could know how happy I am, 
what joyful sights I see ! Now that 
you have forgiven me for all that I 
have done wrong to you, now that my 
Saviour has forgiven me, I am glad 
to die !” 


She spoke with difficulty. 

“ There — I am ready — I am ready ! 
Mary — love — plant the rose tree — 
on my — grave!” She was silent a 
few moments, but soon opened again 
her eyes, and said, in a clear, firm 
voice, “ Will not Mary sing to me ? 
Oh, sing me once more, ‘ ’Tis sweet, 
oh, sweet, to die !’ ” 

Could Mary sing ? Oh, we can do 
any thing the dying ask of us. With 
trembling, yet clear tones, she began : 

’Tis sweet, oh, sweet to die, 

When Jesus Christ is nigh; 

For then the soul fears not to try 
Her unfurled wings. 

With firm and fearless flight, 

She soars into the night, 

Knowing she soon shall reach the light 
Heaven’s morning brings. 

’Tis sweet, oh, sweet to go, 

From all our griefs below, 

To where our souls with life shall glow, 
Freed from the sod; 

Where every sound we hear 
Shall be as music clear; 

Wafting us ever still more near 
The throne of God, 

When they looked at Emma, her 
sleeping form was there ; but she, she 
had gone to heaven. 

It is summer again. In the quiet 
little village grave-yard, there is a 
short, green grave, surrounded by a 
simple white paling. Within, at the 
grave’s head, stands a white rose tree 
in full bloom; and every evening a 
young girl comes, with red roses in 
her hand, and plucking a spray from 
the white rose tree, she twines a wreath 
to throw upon the grave. Her young 
sister lies there. 

Yes, now she comes upon her sweet. 


244 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


sad errand, and now the wreath lies 
on the grave, how fresh and bloom- 
ing ! True, it will soon fade, like 
human life ; but then love, which out- 
lives life, will twine another. 


The setting sun throws his rays of 
gold upon the grass. It shines upon 
the wreath of roses. What is it gleams 
in that white rose cup ? Is it a dew 
drop ? It is Mary’s tear. h. 



Anecdote of General Washington. 


W ashington was in many re- 
spects one of the most remark- 
able men that ever lived. At 
the battle of Monmouth, ac- 
cording to the Home Magazine, his 
coolness and humanity were exempli- 
fied by an incident, trifling in itself, 
but characteristic of greatness. The 
American army, by the neglect of 
General Lee, was several hours behind 
the time appointed by General Wash- 
ington in taking its position, and form- 
ing in order of battle. Some confusion 
arose from the attack of the British 
forces : while in this state, just at 


this time of extreme agitation, General 
Washington came upon the field, and 
while riding in front of the lines, he 
observed that a shot from the enemy 
had broken the leg of a horse. He 
reined in his horse, and spoke to the 
soldiers, “Why do you not put that 
horse out of misery ?” Three sol- 
diers stepped from the ranks to obey 
the command. General Washington 
remarked, “ There is no occasion for 
but one,” and then rode on. The 
soldier from whose lips 1 had this ac- 
count said, “ I was one of the three ; 

I and I thought then, and think now, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


245 


that it was a most extraordinary in- 
stance of the humanity and self-pos- 
session of the Commander in Chief at 
such a time, when his whole energy 
was required in forming the troops, 
in the face of an attack, that he 
should stop ana direct his attention to 
a wounded horse.” 


The Adjective in English. 

^here are several uses of the ad- 
jective in English, which it is 
important to distinguish. 

1. The primary use of the 
adjective is to express the predicate. 
If we compare ille est vivus with 
ille vivit, we shall find that the ad- 
jective differs from the verb, in that 
it expresses the predicate only, and 
nof the predication also. It is a sort 
of imperfect verb, and joined with 
the substantive verb to be, is adapted 
to express the idea of the verb from 
which it is derived with more force 
or emphasis. The adjective form is 
especially appropriated to express an- 
tithesis. Hence adjectives are deve- 
loped in pairs or couplets; as, great 
and small , long and short, broad and 
narrow , high and low , deep and shal- 
low ; and are capable of comparison ; 
as, great, greater , greatest ; small , 
smaller , smallest. 

2. A second, but very common and 
very important use of the adjective, 
is to express the attributed If we 
compare vir bonus , “ the good man,” 
with vir est bonus , “ the man is good,” 
we shall find that in the former phrase 
the adjective boms expresses a dis- 
tinct syntactical relation from what 


it does in the latter. * The former is 
the attributive, and the latter the pre- 
dicative relation. 

3. The adjective, whether employ- 
ed as an attribute or as a predicate, 
usually limits more exactly or speci- 
fies more minutely the force of the 
substantive to which it relates, and 
thus reduces the more general to the 
more special ; but adjectives are some- 
times used as mere epithets. Com- 
pare a cruel tyrant, with a cruel 
prince ; a rich capitalist , with a rich 
man j the eloquent . Cicero ; the most 
high God. 

4. Sometimes, by a rhetorical figure, 
the form of the attribute is employed 
to express a predication or judgment 
of the mind ; as, “ he preferred his 
ungrateful son to all the others,” i. e. 
notwithstanding he was ungrateful. 

It is important to discriminate these 
uses, as well as to know to what sub- 
stantive the adjective belongs. g. 


The River Lena. 

jHildren, did you ever see the 
Lena on the map, in Siberia ? 
Well, we thought so. But how 
large do you think it is ? We 
used to be a good deal mistaken 
about the size of this river when we 
studied geography, and we should 
not wonder if your notions about it 
were wrong. In an account of a re- 
cent visit to that country which we 
have just read, it seems that at the 
distance of a thousand miles from the 
sea into which the Lena discharges 
itself, it is five or six miles wide. 
It is one of the grandest rivers on 
the globe. 


246 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



General Taylor. 


& mong the military heroes of the 
. present age, one of the most dis- 
tinguished is General Zachary 
Taylor, at present command- 
ing the principal branch of the army 
of the tJnited States in Mexico. He 
seems to combine, in a remarkable 
degree, all the characteristics neces- 
sary in a good general. His post 
from the commencement of the un- 
happy war in which we are involved, 
has been one of great responsibility — 
often of extreme peril. Few armies 
have ever been called to contend with 


more fearful odds, so far at least as 
the number of troops is concerned, 
than ours in Mexico. We are no 
general, for two of the best reasons in 
the world ; one of which is, a strong 
disinclination to be shot, and the other 
is about as formidable a dislike to 
shooting any body. But from the ac- 
counts of the different battles in Mexi- 
co, especially some of the earliest, we 
cannot resist the conviction, that the 
present century has, as yet, furnished 
very few, if any, military chieftains 
more skillful and efficient than Gen- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


247 


eral Taylor. He is familiarly called 
“ Rough and Ready,” and we should 
think he had come honestly by the 


name. Perhaps our readers would like 
to see a specimen of the hand-writing 
of the hardy old soldier. Here it is : 





v 



We are indebted for this autograph, 
as well as for the likeness at the head 
of this article, and the sketch of the 
general which follows, to the excel- 
lent biography just published by Mr. 

! Graham, of this city : 

“ General Taylor was bom in 
Orange county, Virginia, in the year 
1790, and is consequently now fifty- 
seven years of age. The American 
branch of the family from which he 
j sprang originated with James Taylor, 
who emigrated to this country, from 
Ijngland, in the year 1692, and set- 
tled in the eastern part of Virginia, 
it is a singular fact, that the eldest 
sons, in a lineal descent, have uni- 
formly borne the name of James from 
this ancestor to the present day. 

“The collateral branches, springing 
of course from the younger sons and 
daughters, have extended to many 
parts of Virginia, North Carolina, and 
Kentucky, and, in fact, all over the 
Southern States, even into Texas. 

“ Colonel Richard Taylor, the father 
of Zachary, settled near Louisville, 
and was distinguished for his bravery 
and military talents. Many instances 
are preserved in the traditions of that 
state of his desperate encounters with 
savages. The mother of General Tay- 
8 * 


lor was a woman of lofty spirits and ed- 
ucated mind, and distinguished fbr her 
many virtues. 

“At the age of six years, Zachary 
was placed under a private tutor, Mr. 
Elisha Ayres, who is still living, at 
Preston, Connecticut, and says that 
he remembers his distinguished pupil 
as being a very active and sensible 
boy 

“ But little is known of the general’s 
youth, but all accounts agree in de- 
scribing it as one of rare promise for 
a military man. He showed a pre- 
dilection for the exercises and accom- 
plishments of the soldier ; and as an 
instance of his bravery and hardi- 
hood, it is related that, when about 
seventeen years of age, he swam from 
the Kentucky shore across the Ohio 
river to the Indiana side, and back 
again, without resting, in company 
with an elder brother, long since dead. 
The feat was performed in the month 
of March, when the river was swollen 
and chill, and far surpasses the famous 
one of swimming the Hellespont, which 
is about a mile across, and of delightful 
temperature. 

“In 1808, young Taylor applied 
for a commission in the army, and, 
through the influence of his father, 


248 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


obtained a lieutenantcy in the seventh 
regiment of infantry, of the United 
States army. 

“Before the war broke out in 1812, 
he had risen to the rank of captain, 
and being ordered for service in the 
western country, he was engaged in 
repelling the border warfare of the 
Indians, which immediately succeeded 
the fall of Detroit, and the surrender 
of General Hull’s army. 

“ Captain Taylor was entrusted with 
the command of Fort Harrison, on the 
Wabash, having a garrison of about 
fifty men, and his defence of that post 
against the Indians was a brilliant 
affair. 

“ The gallant defence of Fort Har- 
rison was duly appreciated by Presi- 
dent Madison, who immediately pro- 
moted the intrepid commander to the 
rank of major.” 

Afterward this gentleman signalized 
himself in several other engagements, 
and among, the rest, in our Florida 
war. But ■ his great military popu- 
larity has been earned since the com- 
mencement of the war with Mexico. 


Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

NUMBER IV. 

Josephine. Mr. Thinker, I heard 
U the other day of a tree which 
MB was seven hundred years old. 

Do you believe trees ever live 
so long as that ? 

T. Yes ; I have not a doubt that 
they sometimes live a great deal 
longer. 

•I. But I do not see how any body 


can tell just exactly how old a tree is 
There must be a good deal of uncer- 
tainty about the matter, to say the 
least. 

T. No ; there is a way of ascer- 
taining almost precisely how old a 
tree is, from an inspection of the tree 
itself. Some trees tell their age more 
correctly than others, however; that 
is, you can count the number of 
years they have lived more exactly, 
when you examine them. 

G. There seems to be a differ- 
ence among trees, then, in this mat- 
ter of telling their ages, very much 
as there is among men and women. 
Mr. Thinker, what makes some ladies 
so much afraid to have their age 
known ? I have heard of a lady who 
hid the family Bible, so that nobody 
could find out how old she was by 
the family record. 

T. I can hardly answer your ques- 
tion, Master George, and perhaps it 
would not have much to do with bgt- 
any, if I could. Was that a young 
lady you spoke of? 

G. No, sir. I think not. 

T. Well, I thought not, too. 

J. How is it, then, that you are a 
thinker , if you think not ? 

E. Perhaps Mr. Thinker meant to 
say that he did not think not. 

T. Well, I think this is getting 
to be a pretty knotty subject, at any 
rate. Suppose we drop it before we 
get it snarled any more. If you ex- 
amine a tree which has been sawed 
in two, you will find there are dis- 
tinct rings running around it, all be- 
ing concentric, or having the same 
centre. These rings are made by 
the forming of a new layer of wood 




THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


249 


and a new layer of bark, both at the 
same time. This is the way in which 
trees, or many trees, at least, increase 
in circumference. Now it has been 
ascertained by experiment, that one 
of these layers, or rings, is formed 


every year; and thus we can tell the 
age of a tree by counting the layers. 

G. Do not some trees live to a much 
greater age than others? 

T. Oh, yes. The forest trees gen- 
erally are most remarkable for lon- 



THE ORIENTAL PLANE-TREE. 


gevity, and among these the plane- 
tree, or button-wood, deserves par- 
ticular notice. 

J. Is that the same tree which we 
call the sycamore, and which has 
suffered so much all over the coun- 
try, from a peculiar disease, within a 
few years past ? 

T. So many people suppose; but 
I am by no means certain that they 
belong to the same species, though 
there is a great resemblance. Those 


of you who are familiar with the 
sycamore, will observe a difference 
between this and the oriental plane, 
as it is represented in the engraving. 

According to Pliny, the Roman 
naturalist there was a plane-tree in 
Lycia, in his day, which had a trunk 
large enough to accommodate the con- 
sul Licinius Mutianus, and eighteen fol- 
lowers, who slept in it during the night. 

E. Did Pliny tell how large the tree 
was around its body ? 


250 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


T. Yes ; he says it measured seven- 
ty-five feet in circumference. There 
is a plane-tree at Constantinople, how- 
ever, which is much larger than that. 
It measures one hundred and fifty 
feet, and inside of it there is a cavity 
of eighty feet in circumference ! The 
sycamore of this country, too, some- 
times grows to an enormous size. 
Some years ago, a trunk of one was 
exhibited in this city, which is worth 
mentioning, to say the least. The 
inside was hollowed out, so that it 
accommodated forty or fifty people 
very conveniently. It was fitted up 
as a parlor, with a handsome piano, 
sofas, mirrors, and other similar arti- 
cles of usefulness and elegance. 

E. I wish, Mr. Thinker, you would 
tell us something about that large ba- 
nian tree, which Josephine heard of at 
the lecture a few evenings ago. Will 
you not ? 

T. You mean the one in Hindos- 
tan, on the island of Nerbuddah, I 
presume. It is a wonderful tree — 
one of the most wonderful now liv- 
ing. Indeed, there is something quite 
remarkable about all the trees of this 
species. These trees send out branches, 
which bend down until they reach the 
earth, and take root again, and so form 
other trees, which in turn go through 
the same process. This celebrated tree 
in Hindostan is supposed to be three 
thousand years old. The natives have 
such a tradition, and it seems quite 
probable. The large trunks of this 
tree exceed three hundred and fifty, 
the smaller ones three thousand. The 
circumference of the whole is nearly 
.two thousand feet ! 

J. I wonder if this is not the re- 


markable tree which Milton alludes 
to in his Paradise Lost ? 

E. No, Josephine; he calls it a fig 
tree. 

T. Well, the banian is a species 
of the fig genus. It is called Ficus 
Indica, in botany. Doubtless Milton 
alludes to this species in his poem. 
Can you repeat his description, Miss 
Josephine ? 

J. No, sir; but I think I can turn 
to the description in the poem, and 
with your permission, I will do so. 

T. Can you repeat any part of it ? 

J. Let me see. I think I can re- 
call a line or two : 

“ She spreads her arms, 

Branching so broad and long, that in the 
ground 

The bending twigs take root, and daughters 
grow 

About the mother tree, a pillared shade, 
High overarched, and echoing walks be- 
tween.” 

T. A graphic and beautiful descrip- 
tion. I am glad to perceive that you 
notice and remember such passages 
in your reading. A good deal more 
might be said about trees of great age 
and size ; but perhaps we had better 
pass to some other topic connected with 
botany. 

E. Oh, Mr. Thinker, I wish you 
would tell us a little more about these 
remarkable trees. I am sure we should 
all be delighted to hear more. 

T. Very well. We will talk again 
about the subject, perhaps at our next 
meeting. 


“ To mourn without measure is folly ; 
not to mourn at all, insensibility.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


251 


Life in the Southwest.* 

BY A SOUTHERNER. 

— ■ » 

NUMBER II. 

hose of you, my young friends, 
who traveled with me — I mean 
upon the map — down the mighty 
Mississippi river, the great father 
of waters, as the Indians delighted to 
call it, will remember that we landed 
in Louisiana. I suppose, then, you 
would like to hear something of this 
southern country, where the sun is 
so hot, but where the bounties of na- 
ture are spread abroad in such profu- 
sion. 

You know where Louisiana is upon 
the map, and you know too that New 
Orleans, a famous city, is the capi- 
tal. This is the land where sugar 
grows. It is here, too, that the cotton 
is produced which, by the hands of 
the skillful workman of Massachusetts, 
is converted into such a variety of 
beautiful fabrics, fine and gay color- 
ed calicoes and ginghams, for you to 
wear. And it is the land of negro 
labor, where the large fields swarm 
with the descendants of the sons of 
Africa, who have for a long time 
occupied this southern country, in 
the condition of slavery, and who are 
so accustomed to the hot sun that it 
appears to do them no injury. 

Hot as the sun is here, I assure 
you, it is a lovely country. Even 
the winter is warm, except occasion- 
al frosts and cold winds. Snow is 
very rarely known to fall. Not a 
single flake of the “ feathery snow” 
did I see last winter. 

It is the great profusion of vegeta- 


tion that gives this region one of its 
brightest charms. You ride along 
some of these romantic roads, and the 
thick clustering vines and evergreens, 
meeting over your head from oppo- 
site sides of the road, give you a 
continual arbor of shade. The wild * 
jessamine, and the cucumber-tree, and 
the rattan, when in blossom, quite fill 
the air with their delicious fragrance. 
How sweet is the smell of these love- 
ly plants ! I have heard some people 
say, and they would repeat poetry as 
they said it, that these flowers “ wast- 
ed their sweetness on the desert air.” 

I do not think, however, the sweet- 
ness was wasted : for the Creator in- 
tended all this loveliness for the abode 
of the thousand songsters which seem 
to fill these groves. 

The mocking bird, called by orni- 
thologists “ the many-tongued Orphe.- 
us,” is a very familiar resident among 
these sweet-scented shades. You see ’ 
and hear these birds all around you. 
On the top of that old beech-tree there 
sits one now. He pours forth from 
his musical throat such strains as I 
am sure neither De Meyer nor Ole 
Bull would attempt to imitate. And 
then the variety of his notes — *tis 
amazing ! You listen, as you ride 
along, and you half fancy ’tis a dream 
of some enchanted land you have read 
of, where the air was filled with the 
fragrance of choice flowers, and where 
the gay birds poured a flood of song 
into your raptured ears. 

And yet all this is true of Louisi- 
ana, which, so far as flowers and birds 
help to make it so, is a land of po- 
etry and song — though I believe the 
people consider it rather as a land 



Continued from p. 220. 


252 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


of sugar and cotton, than as one 
abounding particularly in poetry and 
song, or flowing in milk and honey. 

I presume there are hundreds of 
young people in the Northern and 
Eastern States who are unconscious 
of the existence of what is here known 
by the name of the Spanish moss. It 
is peculiar to the lower Mississippi ; 
not much of it being seen north of 
Natchez or Vicksburg. It is a moss 
of a dark, gray color, that hangs from 
the tall forest trees of this region — 
seeming to delight in the tallest and 
noblest giants of the forest. Some- 
times it completely envelops them as 
a garment ; and there it hangs, in 
long and graceful festoons, from ev- 
ery twig and branch, waving in the 
breeze, and filling the air with its 
mournful sighs. This long moss grows 
upon the tree, and yet is not a part 
of it. It is called a parasite , and 
gets its living by clinging to others, 
and sponging from them. Though 
this is not wholly true either, for it 
is the dampness of the atmosphere 
which gives vigor to this curious 
plant ; and some people think that 
the regions about the Mississippi river 
would not be tolerable, were it not 
for this moss, which absorbs the moist- 
ure from the air, and thus renders it 
healthful. This is a very reasonable 
supposition, and is one among a thou- 
sand other evidences of the wisdom and 
goodness of God. 

Among the common forest trees of 
Louisiana may be reckoned the mag- 
nolia, or bay-tree. This is a large 
and elegant tree, which the botanists 
have called the king of the American 
forests : and they give it a magnifi- 


cent name — the Magnolia grandiflora, 
or grand flowering magnolia. It is an 
evergreen. # The leaf is large, firm, 
and of a beautifully deep and shining 
green. In the month of May the tree 
is in flower. Its bloom is a pure 
white, and expands like a wild rose, 
only the petals are nine in number. 
Its size, when fully expanded, is that 
of an ordinary dinner plate. 

But, lest I should talk to you all 
the time about the hills, and the woods, 
and the Mississippi swamps, I will 
change the subject, and tell you, in 
conclusion, that domestic matters are 
carried on quite differently from the 
way you attend to them in the North. 
The plantations are so large that the 
people live widely separated. A neigh- 
bor a mile off is a near neighbor ; 
and in a circuit of eight or ten miles, 
there may be not more than a dozen 
or eighteen families. But then these 
dozen or eighteen families may turn 
out a thousand or fifteen hundred 
souls — that is, including the blacks. 

Look at the swarm of negroes on 
yonder hill-side, hoeing cotton. They 
appear to be hard at work, and yet 
such is their expertness in the use of 
the hoe, that they in reality take it 
very easy. Men, women, and boys — 
I can count fifty of them. Presently 
it will be noon, and then they will 
sit down in the shade of yonder cane- 
brake, and eat their corn bread and 
bacon with a good appetite. 

The population here is too scatter- 
ed for public schools, and consequent- 
ly in the heavy planting districts of 
Louisiana you will find none, or very 
few. “ No schools in Louisiana V’ 
you ask. Where there are many 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


253 


slaves there is a great deal of wealth ; 
and as the planters do not mind a 
few hundred dollars a year when the 
interest of their children is at stake, 
they have got into the way of having 
private teachers, and they like it best. 
I assure you the Yankee boys are 
quite plenty hereabouts. They come 
out from the land of snow-storms and 
steady habits, and they earn an ho- 
nest livelihood by filling a sphere of 
great usefulness here. 

Churches are very scarce. It is 
very common for some teacher to ex- 
ercise the calling of minister on the 
Sabbath, and the neighboring planters, 
with their wives, and sons, and daugh- 
ters, attend at these little gatherings of 
" family worship ” — though, after all, 
I cannot say there is that attention 
paid to religion in Louisiana that 
the subject demands. Those who set- 
tle here from New England see a 
great difference ; but I have observ- 
ed that they seldom, if ever, lose the 
influence of early training. And this 
very uncertainty of what will become 
of you when you have grown up— 
or upon what spot of earth’s surface, 
or among what kind of people you 
may be thrown, is one of the strong- 
est reasons in the world why children 
should be trained up “ in the way 
they should go” while young. Ex- 
perience shows us, that they never en- 
tirely “ depart from it.” 

Bayou Sab*., La., July, 1847, 


There is a man in Russia who owns 
a farm which it takes two days to cross. 
He has a hundred thousand tenants 
under him. 


An Hour with the Deaf and Dumb. 

R. Editor, — I have of late be- 
come so much interested in 
your Magazine, that I thought 
if I could give but a moment’s 
gratification to your readers, I should 
be abundantly repaid for my trouble in 
penning this account of a visit lately 
made to the institution for the instruc- 
tion of the deaf and dumb in this city. 
Tfie occasion was the meeting of the 
Board of Directors. When we arrived, 
we were shown into the chapel, where 
the pupils had just been assembled, and 
where the exercises were to be held. 

To illustrate the method of instruc- 
tion, a class that had only been in the 
institute for the period of six months, 
was brought forward to the slates. 
This class was not only ignorant of any 
language when they entered, but they 
did not even know what language was. 
They wrote their own names in a 
beautiful hand, and also the names of 
objects, qualities, and actions. They 
were able also to embody words in sim- 
ple sentences, according to correct laws 
of grammar. The next class that was 
brought forward had been under in- 
struction a year longer. The word 
love was given them to incorporate in a 
sentence. Each member took a dif- 
ferent tense of the verb. 

Of the sentences written, the follow- 
ing is a specimen: “Some years ago, 
an old woman walked along the road, 
and saw a pretty little child playing in 
a little wagon. She loved to kisr. it. 
She took a sweet apple out of her 
pocket, and gave it to her. It thank- 
ed her. It loved to eat it.” This 
class was succeeded by another, who 



254 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


had been in the school two years and 
a half. They wrote their names and 
theii places of residence, with the 
lengtxi of time they had been in the 
f school. They were shown a book, 
and were told to describe it. Here 
is a specimen : “ Mr. Peet wrote the 
words and sentences on the paper, 
and they were printed by a man in 
the city. That book is very useful 
to teach me about things. We study 
our lessons in the book every night. 
The book has many stories. I think 
it is very kind to teach us about 
things. We can read it. I think it 
is very easy, but some words are 
hard. We haye books enough, be- 
cause we want to learn them.” 

The remark was made by the teach- 
er of the next class, that it was thought 
by some that arithmetic could not be 
taught the deaf and dumb as well as 
to those children who can speak. To 
show their ability in this branch, he 
gave them the following sums : “ James 
bought 37 cows at $27-J each, and 
375 sheep at $>lf each. How much 
did he pay?” Every one answered 
correctly, $1673. “A man sold 44 
horses -at $75J each. How much will 
he receive ?” Answered correctly, 
$3320. 

The next class, who had been long- 
est in the institution, then gave a 
sketch of the apostle Paul ; and 
while they were thus engaged, illus- 
trations of the use of the sign lan- 
guage were given, in portraying the 
different passions, and the various 
trades and professions. The compo- 
sitions on the slates were then read, 
of which the following is an exam- 
ple : “ Paul was a strict Pharisee, 


under the instruction of Gamaliel, who 
was the most popular and the wisest 
lawyer of his day. When he had 
completed a perfect knowledge of the- 
ology, he was very remarkable for his 
religious zeal, and he imbibed a great 
dislike to the believers of Christ. 
Through his opposition to the system 
of religion established by our Saviour, 
he began the career of his Christian 
persecution. Having obtained from 
the high priest the authority that he 
might persecute the Christians in se- 
veral cities, he was determined to set 
out to Damascus, to oppress them ; but 
on his way there, there came a light 
upon him, so intense as to deprive 
him of his sight. Then he was sent 
to Damascus, to wait for the inform- 
ations from Jesus Christ, and after 
three days, was restored to sight by 
Ananias, a very pious servant of God, 
bringing some words to him, that he 
had been called to the apostleship, and 
ought to labor for the conversion of 
poor sinners. Several years after his 
becoming an apostle, he was supposed 
to have been beheaded by Nero, em- 
peror of Rome.” 

The exercises were closed by the 
recitation of the Lord’s Prayer in the 
sign language, by one of the young 
ladies of the institute, which was 
translated literally by Mr. Peet, pre- 
faced by the remark that the order 
of presenting ideas in the sign lan- 
guage was very different from that 
of written or spoken language. The 
following is the order, as near as I 
can recollect, as translated by Mr. 
Peet : “ Father in heaven, be thou 
adored. Men and women be con- 
verted, thy dominion submit to. An. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


255 


gels in heaven, thy will obey ; men 
and women wicked on earth, be con- 
verted, thy will obey in like manner. 
This day us bread give. Others in- 
jure us we forgive, us disobey thy 
commands, forgive thou, in like man- 
ner. Others tempt us to sin, we fol- 
low ; oh, no ! From sickness, trouble, 
sin, do thou deliver ; for the king- 
dom, power, glory, to thee belong for- 
ever and ever. Amen.” 

No description can convey even a 
tolerable idea of the impressiveness 
and solemnity of this scene. To be 
realized, it must be seen. The com- 
pany then repaired to the ladies’ par- 
lor, where they enjoyed a social chat, 
and partook of some refreshments, pro- 
vided for the occasion, after which 
we visited the workshops, and return- 
turned to the city much gratified with 
our visit. d. 


The Canary Bird. 

Translated from tlie German, for the Youth’s Cabinet. 
BY MRS. ST. SIMON. 

t little girl named Caroline had 
a charming Canary bird. The 
little creature sang from early 
morning until evening ; it was 
a very beautiful bird, of a bright 
yellow, with a black head. Caro- 
line gave it seeds and green vegeta- 
bles, and, at times, a piece of su- 
gar, and every day fresh and pure 
water. 

But all at once the little bird be- 
gan to droop; and one morning, as 
Caroline came to bring it water, it 
lay dead in its cage. 

The little girl raised loud lamen- 


tations over the beloved bird, and 
wept bitterly. But the child’s mo- 
ther went and purchased another, 
with colors still more beautiful, and 
which sang as sweetly as the former 
one, and placed it in the cage. 

But the little girl wept still more 
when she saw the new bird. 

Then the mother wondered greatly, 
and said, “ My dear child, why dost 
thou still weep ? why art thou so 
very sad ? Thy tears will not call 
the dead bird back to life again, and 
here thou hast another equally beau- 
tiful.” 

Then the child said, “ Ah, dear 
mother, I have acted unkindly toward 
the little creature, and I have not 
done all for it that I could and ought 
to have done.” 

“ Dear Lina,” answered the mo- 
ther, “ thou hast tended it very care- 
fully.” 

" Ah, no !” replied the child. “ A 
short time before its death, I did not 
bring it a piece of sugar which you 
gave me for it, but ate it myself.” 
Thus spoke the little girl with a 
heavy heart. 

But the mother did not smile at 
her complaints, for she recognized 
and revered the sacred voice of na- 
ture in the heart of the child. 

“ Alas !” she said, “ what must be 
the feelings of an ungrateful child, 
when it stands by the grave of its 
parents !” 


“Muscles open their mouths, to swal- 
low pearl-drops from the skies. Wise 
men open their mouths, only to utter 
words more precious than pearls.” 


256 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Our Neighbor, Uncle Barnabas.* 

BY THEODORE THINKER, 

S ncle Barnabas was an excellent 
gardener, and he used not un- 
frequently to be employed in my 
father’s garden. My father was 
extremely nice in every thing relating 
to his garden, and Uncle Barnabas 
was the only man in the neighbor- 


hood, except himself, in whose horticul- 
tural skill he had any confidence. The 
old gentleman was fond of this employ- 
ment ; and I am not sure but my own 
fondness for a garden is in a measure 
owing to his early influence. My bro- 
ther and myself were invariably asso- 
ciated with him in the management of 
my father’s garden, and a right merry 
time we always had with him. He 



was a great hand for telling stories. I 
remember a story he told us once, 
while we were engaged in the gar- 
den — a story with an excellent moral — 
which I have always suspected he 
meant to operate as a sort of check 
for some buddings of laziness that 
were beginning to develope themselves 
in his young assistants. “When I 
was a boy,” said he, " about as old 
as you are, Master Theodore, my 

* Continued from page 222. 


father sent me, in company with a 
younger brother, one very warm day 
out into the field to hoe corn. We 
had not hoed long, before we were 
sick of the business, and hit upon ra- 
ther a singular expedient, though not 
a very wise or remarkably honest one, 
to get rid of work for the remainder 
of the day. We went to the house, 
where father was engaged repairing the 
old cheese-press, I believe, and asked 
his advice in a matter of great emer- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


257 


gency. As usual, I was spokesman. 
‘Father,’ I said, ‘I am afraid we can’t 
work any more in the corn-field to- 
day.’ ‘ What is the matter, my son V 
‘Why a great black-snake lies just 
across the row, only a few hills ahead of 
where we are hoeing, and we are afraid 
to hoe any more in that field to-day.’ 
‘ Well, Barnabas,’ said the old man, 
after thinking a moment, ‘ this is a very 
naughty snake, very naughty, indeed — 
and he ought to be ashamed of himself. 
I will tell you what to do. Go back 
both of you to the field, and say to 
the black-snake, three times, Begone. 
Give him fair warning. Then, if he 
don’t go, take your hoe and cut his 
head off*.’ We went back, of course, 
wiser than we came, and heartily 
ashamed of our miserable expedient for 
getting rid of work.” 

Uncle Barnabas lived about half a 
mile from my father’s ; and when I 
had been an uncommonly good boy, 
my mother, as a special favor, allow- 
ed me to make a visit to the little 
one-story cottage, where Uncle Bar- 
nabas resided with his good spouse, 
Aunt Sally. There I was always 
welcome, as the generous portions of 
gingerbread and dough-nuts abundant- 
ly testified. The mansion was stand- 
ing when I last visited my birth-place ; 
but the eyes of both those good old- 
fashioned people had long been closed 
in death, and they were slumbering 
side by side in the village grave- 
yard. Friends of my earlier years! 
the sculptured marble tells not where 
your ashes lie ; a rude, unlettered 
stone alone marks the spot. But 

“ In friendship’s silent register ye live, 

Nor ask the vain memorial art can give.” 


The Squirrel. 

The squirrel hastens to and fro, 

With acorn, nut, and corn, 

His cell to fill — he’s much to do, 

For winter’s coming on. 

He does not stop for friends or foes, 

Until his work ig done ; 

He needs no telling, well he knows 
Cold winter’s coming on. 

His store-house, filled with all that’s good, 
His eye looks proudly on ; 

Then chatters forth throughout the wood, 
“ Now let cold winter come.” 

Come, children, like the squirrel try, 

In life’s bright, sunny morn, 

To seek a good, a rich supply, 

Before old age comes on. 

Lay up a store of luxuries rare, 

To feast the mind upon ; 

Undaunted, then, you’ll have no fear, 
When wintry age comes on. 

\ Well-Spring 


Be Contented with Little. 

8 once knew a man who had thou- 
sands and thousands, but the de- 
sire to get more hindered him 
from enjoying what he had. 

I knew a poor woman, also, who 
had but half a dollar a week in the 
whole world to live upon, and yet 
she was cheerful and happy. She 
had always a little money by her to 
assist those in distress, and instead 
of praying that God would add to her 
store, she was praising him for -what 
he had so graciously bestowed. She 
had many trials, but she rejoiced 
through them all, for 

“ True piety is cheerful as the day ; 

Will weep, indeed, and heave a pitying groan 
For others’ woes, but smiles upon her own.” 

So that you see, my boys and girls, 
a little, with God’s blessing, is better 
than a good deal without it. — Selected . 


258 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


M any hundred years ago, when 
Titus was Emperor of Rome, 
as our young friends are aware, 
the cities of Herculaneum, Sta- 
bia, and Pompeii, were overwhelmed 
by an eruption of ashes and lava from 
Mount Vesuvius. A great many in- 
teresting and some very curious things 
have been dug up from the site of the 
former of these cities, in a state of 
almost perfect preservation. We saw 
a cup the other day, in the cabinet 
of a friend of ours, which came from 
Pompeii. It looked very much as 
some of our modern drinking cups 
do. Here is a picture of a pot which 
came from that place. 



This was no doubt used for cook- 
ing, and intended to hang over the 
fire. It is made in good taste through- 
out. The handle is well designed, 
and the scrol 1 under it quite agreea- 
ble to the eye. The entire figure is 
beautiful ; more so, we think, than 
the pots are in which our modern 
dinners are boiled. So we see that 
things were adapted to their peculiar 
uses in old times, as much as they 
are now. 


The other picture represents a ves 
sel found in England. It is a vase, 
probably made for holding flowers. 



The probability is, that it was made 
soon after the conquest of the island 
by the Romans. So it must be very 
old. It was made of dark clay, and 
is very tastefully ornamented by the 
painter. The color is yellowish white, 
and the figures are in relief. 


We have been very much de- 
lighted of late, by the perusal of 
the first number of a new maga- 
zine, somewhat similar in its cha- 
racter to the Columbian. It is call- 
ed the “ Union Magazine of Lite- 
rature and Art,” and is edited by 
Mrs. C. M. Kirkland, the well-known 
“ Mary Clavers,” author of “A New 
Home,” “ Forest Life, ” and other 
works of interest and excellence. Ta- 
king it altogether, this magazine comes 
the nearest our beau ideal, in the 
department of elegant periodical lite- 
rature, of any thing in the field. 
We have long been an admirer of 
Mrs. Kirkland’s literary efforts ; though 
in this matter we do not claim much 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


259 


shrewdness, as it so happens that ev- 
ery body else is an admirer, too. 
But to be efficient and successful as 
an editor and as an author, are two 
widely different things ; and some of 
our authors, it must be confessed, 
make very dull editors. The reason 
for this is obvious enough. A writer 
who has won some reputation as an 
author, is selected by a money-making 
publisher as the editor of his periodi- 
cal, solely on account of his name, 
and for the use of his name, he re- 
ceives his salary. His soul is else- 
where. He has a mere nominal con- 
nection with the periodical. For all 
practical purposes, you might as well 
have the author’s effigy. There is 
no bond of sympathy either between 
him and the readers of the maga- 
zine, or between him and its corre- 
spondents. With Mrs. Kirkland and 
the Union Magazine, the case is far 
otherwise. We shall not only have 
an editor in nawe, but we shall have 
the thing. So we judge from the ap- 
pearance of the initial number. There 
are marks upon it of editorial indus- 
try and careful discrimination. Should 
this magazine maintain the position 
which has been given to this num- 
ber, in its literary and mechanical 
excellence, there is nothing in the 
country which will so well deserve 
the patronage of families of refine- 
ment and cultivated taste. The mag- 
azine is published by Israel Post, of 
this city. Price three dollars, 

What a luxury it is, in midsum- 
mer, to escape from the city! Real- 
ly, a man, though a little past the 


spring-time of life, feels like a boy 
again, when he finds himself in the 
country, surrounded by the beauties 
of nature. This world would lose a 
good many of its charms to us, if we 
could not occasionally see it without 
looking through a thick veil of art ; 
and there are few things for which 
we who * are shut up in one of the 
noisiest cities in Christendom ought 
to be more thankful, than that we 
can, with so little difficulty, get 
away from these heated brick walls 
and clattering pavements, in an hour 
or two, and find a pleasant country 
retreat. One of the finest excursions 
we have had this summer — and this 
we have enjoyed several times — is 
down the Bay, and around Sandy 
Hook. The steamer Orus leaves the 
city every day, and proceeds up the 
Shrewsbury inlet several miles. By 
taking this boat, we are fanned by 
the ocean breeze, and are soon trans- 
ported where there is good bathing in 
the surf, and, for those who like such 
amusement, good fishing. There is, 
besides, an excellent hotel and board- 
ing-house, two or three miles up the 
inlet, kept by Mr. Hammond, where 
one will have fresh fish served up to 
his heart’s content. 


The article in this number from 
the pen of our correspondent, T. S. 
Arthur, is a very pretty thing. In 
a letter received from this gentle- 
man the other day, he remarks that 
he is directing a good deal of his at- 
tention to the task of writing for 
children. We are glad to learn that 
fact ; for we are sure that he pos- 


260 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


messes the talent requisite to interest 
the juvenile reader, in no small de- 
gree. Now we think of it, we pro- 
mised in our last number to present 
a fac-simile of Mr. Arthur’s hand- 
writing, and here it is, engraved 
from the signature of one of his let- 
ters to us : 


C 





The autograph, which is very cor- 
rect, was transferred by Mr. William 
Howland, an artist to whom our 
young friends are indebted for many 
of the pretty pictures in the Cabinet. 


That was a very acceptable and 
altogether quite an unexpected pre- 
sent which was brought by a north- 
ern mail a few days since. Thank 
you, Miss Ellen Louisa, for the 
pretty book-mark, having upon it, as 
it does, the sweetest words in the 
volume of divine truth. Deus amor — 
God is Love ! May this truth per- 
vade the hearts of all our readers, 
and may they learn to love him who 
has sacrificed so much to testify his 
love for us. We publish with plea- 
sure the lines which accompanied this 
little token : 

GOD 18 LOVE. 

In each lowly, tiny flow’ret, 

In each blade of living green 

In the whispering of the breezes, 

The Almighty hand is seen. 

All do point the soul above, 

And proclaim that God is love. 

When the desolating tempest 
In its anger passeth by; 


When the God of thunder speaketh, 
And his voice is heard on high; 
When the bow is seen above — 

Then rejoice ! for God is love. 

Wonder not the sun was shadowed, 
And the veil was rent in twain; 

That the graves of saints were opened 
When the Son of God was slain : 
Bend the knee, and raise above 
Humble prayer — for God is love. 

E. L. B. 


A PUZZLE. 

A correspondent proposes for our 
readers the following puzzle, premis- 
ing, however, that he does not claim 
the honor of originating it : 

A man has a farm which lies per- 
fectly square. He wishes to divide 
this farm so that he may have one 
quarter, which shall also be square, 
and his four sons the other three 
quarters, their farms being equal in 
quantity and shape. How shall he 
do it ? Here is a diagram of the 
whole lot, with the old gentleman’s 
share fenced off. 


Now how shall we divide the re- 
mainder into four parts of the same 
area and shape ? 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


261 


We are grateful for the suggest- 
ions of a patron in Galena, Ohio. 
Possibly our Cabinet would be bet- 
ter, if we were to take the course 
ne points out. We shall think of 
the matter, at any rate ; though, in 
so doing, we shall agitate in our 
mind a question which has come up 
a thousand times, at least. We hope 
our friend, however, will bear in 
mind, that a thing desirable in itself 
may often be brought about best by 
indirect means. In our efforts to 
instruct and bless the young, we 
seldom preach or read dry essays 
to them — that is true. We strive 
rather to enter into their society — 
to ne one of them — to sympathize 
with them — to share in their toils 
and innocent amusements. Nay, we 
want even to help amuse them — 
as a means, not as an end — as a 
means of doing them good. So that 
it is not our aim to furnish a work 
simply adapted to Sabbath school in- 
struction, though we hope the Cabinet 
is not out of its place when it finds 
its way into a Sabbath school. Still 
we do not presume that we are in- 
fallible, and our present opinions 
may undergo a change in future. 
Whether they do or not, however, 
no one certainly can feel more 
keenly than we, that our position is 
an exceedingly responsible one, and 
that we need the kind suggestions of 
our patrons. 


ANSWER TO ENIGMA No. IV. 

The sentence of sixty-one letters is 
from Proverbs, xvi. 31 : “ The hoary 
head is a crown of glory, if it be 
found in the way of righteousness.” 


Isaac Newton was a distinguished 
philosopher. Sir Walter Raleigh was 
a scholar and soldier, who suffered 
tyrannical punishment in England, in 
the reign of James I. George White- 
field was a distinguished preacher. 
Bossuet was an eminent Frenchman, 
an excellent preacher, and good his- 
torian. Addison flourished in the sev- 
enteenth century, and was noted as a 
poet and moralist. Hunter was the 
name of two brothers, distinguished 
as anatomists, who lived in Great 
Britain in the eighteenth century. The 
Count de Buffon was a French natu- 
ralist and historian, and the author 
of a large work on natural history. 
Hyde was a distinguished statesman 
and politician. Henry (Patrick) was 
a gentleman by whose eloquence the 
great ball of the " Revolution ” was 
moved. c. t. e. 


ENIGMA No. V. 

I am composed of 20 letters. My 
2, 1, 14, 4, 10, is p, common name. 
My 10, 8, 11, 6, is a part of the 
body. My 18, 9, 1, 11, 16, is a per- 
son spoken of in Scripture. My 15, 
12, 18, 2, 10, 11, was a prophet of old. 
My 11, 6, is a Latin preposition. 
My 17, 7, 20, is a part of the body. 
My 6, 11, 19, 18, 6, a distinguished 
man of ancient times. My 9, 7, 14, 
18, 1, is an ancient country in Asia 
Minor. My 16, 11, 20, 9, 1, 14, was 
a Roman general'. My 12, 18, 19, 7, 
was a Roman historian. My 13, 11, 
18, 5, 9, is an ancient European 
tribe. My 16, 1, 12, 11, 18, 9, was 
a town in France. My 16, 12, 1, 
14, 3, is an adventurous navigator. 
My whole is a text of Scripture. 


262 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Remarkable Facts about Wheat. 

o my mind, it is one of the many 
evidences of the goodness of 
God, that wheat, the species of 
grain which is regarded as the 
most valuable for food, should have 
such an astonishing power of repro- 
duction. There is one species of it 
which has seven or more ears on one 
stalk. What a number of kernels 
must be produced from one of these 
stalks ! 



SEVEN-EARED WHEAT. 


But one of the more common spe- 
cies, which bears but a single ear on a 
stalk, is also exceedingly prolific, when 
it is cultivated in favorable circum- 
stances. A man in England, on the 
second day of June, once sowed a few 
kernels of common wheat, for the pur- 
pose, I believe, of trying some experi- 
ments. On the eighth of August, one 
of the plants had sent up so many 
stalks, that he divided the whole into 
eighteen parts, which he placed sepa- 
rately in the ground. In September 
and October, so many of these had 
again multiplied their stalks, that he 
divided them again ; and the number 
of plants which were set out to con- 
tinue during the winter, was sixty-seven. 


After these began to start, in spring, 
the process of forming new stalks went 
on ; so that, at the beginning of April, 
a further division was made, and the 
whole number of plants amounted to 
nearly five hundred ! These plants 
proved to be very vigorous — so that the 
number of ears which they produced 
amounted to twenty-one thousand one 
hundred and nine ; or more than forty 
to each of the divided plants. Some 
of these ears were six or seven inches 
long, and contained sixty or seventy 
kernels. The number of kernels in 
the whole was more than half a million , 
and they measured upward of three 
pecks ! — Theodore Thinker. 


Fishes Tamed by a Child. 

a quarter of the town of Hing- 
Jgl ham, Mass., known as Rockynook, 
jM there is a pond, where a little 
girl, not six years old, who re- 
sides near the bank, has tamed 
the fishes to a remarkable degree. 
She began by throwing crumbs in- 
to the water. Gradually the fishes 
learned to distinguish her footsteps, and 
darted to the edge whenever she ap- 
proached ; and now they will actually 
feed out of her hand, and allow her to 
touch their scaly sides. A venerable 
turtle is among her regular pensioners. 
The control of Van Amburgh over his 
wild beasts is not more surprising than 
that which this little girl has attained 
over her finny playmates. The fishes 
will have nothing to do with any one 
but their tried friend. They will trust 
no one else, let him come with proven- 
der ever so tempting. — Selected . 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


263 


Goldsmith, the Poet. 


he biography of those men 
and women who have be- 
come famous by their wri- 
tings, or in any other way, 
is always a matter of inte- 
rest to eveiy body. It is a 
very common thing, too, for 
people to feel not a little 
curiosity to see the por- 
traits of these same literary men and 
women. The curiosity is natural 


enough, and we are disposed to gra- 
tify it pretty often. 

Perhaps, reader, you would like 
to be made acquainted with the poet 
Goldsmith. He has done a good 
deal in the way of entertaining the 
Anglo-Saxon race by his poetry. In 
our opinion, he has produced one or two. 
little poems, which, in some respects, are 
among the very best in the language. 
The portrait, which is said to be a 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



very truthful one, we have had trans- 
ferred from the London Juvenile Mis- 
cellany, and it is beautifully engra- 
ved by Mr. Howland, of this city. 

Oliver Goldsmith was born in 
Ireland. The wild scenery of the 
place of his birth doubtless contri- 
buted much to form in his mind a 
taste for poetry. His father was a 
clergyman, and his early days were 
Vol. II. 9 


spent in the seclusion of a country 
parsonage. When he entered Trini- 
ty College, in Dublin, it is said that 
he discovered very few, if any, of * 
those marks of genius which charac- 
terized his later years ; but this has 
been the case with many other per- 
sons, who afterward attained great 
literary eminence. 

Soon after he left this college — 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


264 

partly on account of pecuniary em- 
barrassments, it would seem — he left 
England for the continent, and spent 
some years abroad. His stock of 
money was exhausted pretty soon af- 
ter he left home, and then he was 
obliged to support himself by play- 
ing on the flute. “ Whenever I ap- 
proached a peasant’s hut, toward 
nightfall,” he said, in giving an ac- 
count of his wanderings, “ I played 
one of my most merry tunes, which 
generally procured for me not only 
a lodging for the night, but suste- 
nance the next day.” Some of his 
early poems he wrote while he was 
abroad. 

He returned to England in 1759, 
with a very few half pence in his 
pocket. Not long after, he was in- 
vited oy his old friend, Dr. Sleith, 
to share his purse until some em- 
ployment could be obtained. This 
gentleman treated the young poet 
with great cordiality. 

In 1765, Goldsmith suddenly emer- 
ged from his obscurity, and astonish- 
ed the world by the publication of 
“ The Traveler.” Dr. Johnson, who 
was a great critic, you know, said 
that this poem was at the time the 
best which had been written since 
Pope’s day. Very soon Goldsmith 
found himself in the midst of a bril- 
liant literary career. At one time 
he realized from his writings up- 
wards of eight thousand dollars an- 
nually. But unfortunately he did not 
understand the art of using money. 
He was a very liberal man. That 
was well enough; you say. So it 
would have been, if he had bestow- 
ed his money with judgment. But 


he might as well have thrown it 
away, as to have done as he did. 
Besides, he spent large sums at the 
gaming-table. He was an inveterate 
gambler. It is painful to record 
these things. But if an accurate 
sketch of the character of many oth- 
er great and some good men were 
given, truthfully, it would present 
some blemishes. 

You have probably read Goldsmith’s 
“Vicar of Wakefield,” or if not, 
you have heard of it frequently. 
This is a very pretty tale, and will 
live as long as the English language 
lives. The moral of it is very good, 
too. Its tendency is to make the 
heart better, and not worse, as is 
the case with most of our modern 
novels. Poor man ! with all his 
splendid talents, and his high repu- 
tation as an author, such were his 
habits, Goldsmith sometimes ate his 
breakfast without the means of pay- 
ing for a dinner. 

He died in London, in the • year 
1774. Probably his own indiscre- 
tion was the occasion of his death. 
He had a nervous fever ; and as he 
was educated to some extent as a 
physician, he prescribed for himself 
in his illness. But the medicine 
which he took as a remedy is said 
to have irritated his disease, and 
hastened his death. His remains 
were interred in the Poet’s Corner, 
and a monument, with an inscrip- 
tion upon it from the pen of Dr. 
Johnson, has been raised to his me- 
mory. But he erected for himself, 
while he lived, a more enduring mo- 
nument than can be formed of mar- 
ble. What a beautiful creation of 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


265 


genius is the “ Deserted Village !” 
How sweetly does he sing of 

“ Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain!” 

This poem was always a favorite 
with us. Even in early boyhood, 
it was the charm of many an hour. 
And now, as we read it, his sketch 
of the village school brings distinctly 
before the mind’s eye the troop of 
romping boys, and girls, with whom 
we used to read Noah Webster’s 
Spelling-book. Then the schoolmas- 
ter, too. We get a daguerreotype 
impression of him, just as he used 
to promenade up and down in his 
noisy kingdom. 

“ Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, 

The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 
The village all declared how much he knew ; 
’T was certain he could write and cypher, too. 
Lands he could measure ; times and tides pre- 
sage, 

And e’en the story ran that he could gauge. 
In arguing, too, the parson own’d his skill, 
For e’en though vanquish’d, he could argue 
still ; 

While words of learned length and thunder- 
ing sound 

Amaz’d the gazing rustics rang’d around; 
And still they gaz’d, and still the wonder 
grew 

That one small head should carry all he 
knew.” 

Goldsmith’s sketch of a faithful pas- 
tor, in the same poem, is beautiful 
in the extreme. 

u A man he was to all the country dear, 

And passing rich with forty pounds a year.” 

He devoted himself, with all the ar- 
dor of his soul, to the interests of his 
little flock. With what earnestness 
he proclaims the message of his Mas- 


ter ; and then, after the services of 
the house of God are over, how de- 
lightful to see the lambs of his flock 
gather around him, to testify their 
love ! 

44 E’en children followed, with endearing wile, 

And pluck’d his gown, to share the good 
man’s smile.” 

But the winding up of this sketch 
of the village pastpr is inimitable. 
There is scarcely any thing finer in 
the whole range of English poetry : 

41 To them his heart, his love, his griefs were 
given, 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in 
heaven — 

As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the 
storm, 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds 
are spread, 

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.” 


The Star and the Child. 

A maiden walked at eventide 
Beside a clear and placid stream, 

And smiled, as in its depths she saw 
A trembling star’s reflected beam. 

She smiled until the beam was lost, 

As ’cross the sky a cloud was driven ; 

And then she sighed, and then forgot 
The star was shining still in heaven. . 

A mother sat beside life’s stream, 
Watching a dying child at dawn, 

And smiled, as in its eye she saw 
A hope that it might still live on 

She smiled until the eyelids closed, 

But watched for breath until the even : 

And then she wept, and then forgot 
The child was living still in heaven. 

Selected* 


!2GG 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



Captain -Cook. 


ttltt|ERE is a likeness of* Captain 
MJJ James Cook. The following 
MM account of him is taken from 
the Home Magazine. He was 
one of the greatest navigators ever pro- 
duced by Great Britain, or any other 
country, and was born in Yorkshire, 
England, on the 27th of October, 1728. 
He was one of a family of nine chil- 
dren, and experienced great hardships 
in his Oarly years. He was a com- 
mon seaman at the age of thirty ; but 
as soon as his character and extraordi- 
nary capacity came to be noticed, he 
was rapidly promoted. 


In the beginning of the reign of 
George III. a great spirit of geogra- 
phical discovery was excited by the 
attention paid to the subject by go- 
vernment ; and Cook, who was then 
made a lieutenant, was sent on a voy- 
age of discovery in 1768. On the 
30th of July that year, he sailed in the 
Endeavor, and commenced a course of 
discoveries, which have not only ren- 
dered his name, but even those of his 
vessels, immortal. He made three 
voyages, to which we are indebted for 
the greatest part of the knowledge 
which, to this day, we possess of the 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


267 


regions scattered through the Pacific 
Ocean. Of these, several had been 
previously visited by other navigators ; 
but it was a remarkable circumstance 
in his voyages, that wherever he touch- 
ed, every thing relative to the place 
was determined with such accuracy 
and fullness, that the comparatively 
vague and imperfect accounts of former 
discoverers seemfed to go for nothing. 
Many places considered as being well 
known, were thus, in a great measure, 
discovered by him. 

From his third voyage, Captain Cook 
never returned. The circumstances 
of his death were of the most tragical 
kind. When his vessel was on the 
coast of the island of Owhyhee, several 
unfortunate quarrels took place, with 
the natives ; and Captain Cook, in or- 
der to compel them to restore some ar- 
ticles of which they had plundered the 
ship, took the imprudent resolution of 
going on shore with a very few men. 
At first, no sign of hostility appeared ; 
but the natives were soon observed to 
be gathering in great numbers ; arming 
themselves with long spears, clubs, and 
daggers, and putting on their defen- 
sive armor of mats. They gradually 
surrounded the small party, which had 
now got a considerable way from the 
shore ; and Captain Cook, beginning to 
think his situation dangerous, ordered 
his men to return to the beach, and 
went along with them, holding the king 
by the hand, whom he intended to 
take on board, as a hostage for the 
good conduct of his subjects. They 
got without opposition to the place 
where the boats were lying, close to 
the land ; but, as they were going on 
board, an Indian threw a stone at the 


captain, who returned the insult by 
firing at the man; and, the shot not 
taking effect, he knocked him down 
with his musket. A confused scuffle 
ensued ; the men on board the boats, as 
well as those on shore, fired .among the 
natives,, who, rushing among the latter, 
drove them into the water, from 
whence they got on board one of the 
boats ; the captain alone being left 
behind. 

He was now observed making for 
one of the boats, carrying his musket 
under his arm, and holding his other 
hand behind his head, to protect it from 
the stones. An Indian was seen follow- 
ing him, but with marks of fear, as he 
stopped two or three times. At last he 
struck the captain on the back of the 
head with a club, and then hastily ran 
back. Captain Cook staggered a few 
paces, and then fell on his hand and 
one knee, dropping his musket. An- 
other Indian now stabbed him in the 
neck with a dagger. He then fell into 
a pool of water, where others crowded 
upon him ; but still he struggled vio- 
lently with them, got up his head, and 
looked to the boats, as if for assistance. 
One of them was not above five or six 
yards off, but such was the confused 
and crowded state of the crew, that no 
assistance could be given. The Indians 
again got him under, though he still 
continued to struggle, and once more 
got up his head ; but being quite spent, 
he turned toward the rock, as if to 
support himself by it, when a savage 
struck him with a club, a blow which 
probably put an end to his life, as he 
struggled no longer. The savages 
dragged his lifeless body up the rocks, 
and mangled it in the most shocking 


268 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


manner. Some fragments of his re- 
mains were afterward recovered, and 
solemnly committed to the deep on 
the 21st of February, 1779. 

This most lamentable occurrence 
produced the impression, which long 
subsisted, that the inhabitants of Owhy- 
hee were a race of fierce and blood- 
thirsty barbarians ; but it has been dis- 
covered that, though possessing that 
disregard for human life which is always 
found to attend man in a state of na- 
ture, and which is a remarkable proof 
of our fallen state, the people of the 
Sandwich Islands, of which Owhyhee is 
the chief, are gentle as well as intelli- 
gent. The attack upon Cook was 
made in the belief that his intentions 
were hostile ; and his death occurred 
in the heat and violence of an affray 
in which blood was shed on both 
sides. 

An astonishing change has taken 
place in these islands since the days of 
Cook. They now present the aspect 
of a civilized community, with a regu- 
lar government, laws, and institutions; 
and, above all, the Christian religion. 
Unhappily, however, the good they 
have derived from European inter- 
course has not been unmixed with 
evil. They have learned European 
vices. Drunkenness, of which we have 
both taught them the lesson, and sup- 
plied them with the means, is prevalent 
among them, with its train of baleful 
effects. It is impossible to contemplate 
the situation of this interesting race, 
now so entirely dependent upon Great 
Britain, without an anxious wish that 
all possible means should be taken 
by this country to secure their future 
welfare. 


The Kail-Road to Gambling. 

E have just been reading a 
story which illustrates the per- 
fect infatuation of the con- 
firmed gambler more clearly 
than any other facts we are acquaint- 
ed with. A Mr. Potter, according 
to this account, was the owner of 
one of the best estates in the county 
of Northumberland, in England, and 
in less than twelve months he lost 
the whole of it at the gaming-table. 
But this was not all. 

The last night of his career, when 
he had just perfected the wicked 
work, and was just stepping down 
stairs to throw himself into his car- 
riage, which waited at the door of a 
well-known house, he suddenly went 
back into the room where his friends 
were assembled, and insisted that the 
person he had been playing with 
should give him one chance of reco- 
very, or fight with him. His rational 
proposition was this : that his car- 
riage, the trinkets and loose money 
in his pocket, his town-house, plate, 
and furniture, should be valued in a 
lump, at a certain sum, and be thrbwn 
for at a single cast. No persuasion 
could prevail on him to depart from 
his purpose : he threw and lost. Hr 
conducted the winner to the door, told 
his coachman that was his master 
and heroically marched forth, withou* 
house, home, or any creditable sourer 
of support. 

He retired to an obscure lodging 
in a cheap part of the town, subsist- 
ing partially on charity, sometimes 
acting as the substitute of a marker 
at a billiard-table, and occasionally 



269 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


as helper at a livery-stable. In this 
miserable condition, with nakedness 
and famine staring him in the face, 
exposed to the taunts and insults of 
those whom he had once supported, 
he was recognized by an old friend, 
who gave him ten guineas to pur- 
chase necessaries. 

He expended five in procuring de- 
cent apparel ; with the remaining 
five, he repaired to a common gam- 
ing-house, and increased them to fif- 
ty ; he then joined his former asso- 
ciates, and won twenty thousand 
pounds. Returning next night, he 
lost it all, and, after existing many 
years in abject and sordid penury, 
died a ragged beggar, at a penny 
lodging-house. 

“ Well, you will never catch me 
making such a fool of myself,” says 
one of our young friends. We sin- 
cerely hope we never shall, sir. But 
this matter of gambling is very be- 
witching. After a person has form- 
ed a taste for gambling, he is little 
better than a crazy man. Gambling 
is almost insanity ; and when a man 
is under its influence, his judgment 
has very little control over his ac- 
tions. He will risk every thing on 
the throw of the dice. “ I know that, 
but I have never formed such a 
taste.” Not exactly ; still, you were 
seen betting the other day, and some 
time ago. you played a game or two 
for some pennies, did you not ? 

Besides, you love to look on and 
see other people play for money, and 
you take some little interest in horse- 
racing. You had better keep a sharp 
look out. You are pretty near the 
rail-road to gambling, and if you 


once get into one of the cars, there 
is no knowing where you will stop. 
Take care in season. It will not do 
much good to warn you after you 
get on board. So we do it now. 
There is nothing like taking time by 
the forelock, as the old saw has it. 


A Father’s Care for Ms Son. 

B eautiful and becoming in the 
eyes of the paternal God is the 
unwearied attachments of the pa- 
rent to his child ! Alas ! how lit- 
tle does the unthinking spirit of youth 
know of the extent of its devotedness. 
There sits the froward, fretful and indo- 
lent boy. The care that keeps perpe- 
tual watch over his moral and physical 
safety, he misnames unjust restriction. 
The foresight that denies itself many a 
comfort to provide for his future wants, 
he denounces as a sordid avarice. He 
turns from his father’s face in coldness 
or in anger. Boy ! boy ! the cloud up- 
on that toil-worn brow has been placed 
there by anxiety, not for self, but for 
an impatient, peevish son, whose pil- 
low he would gladly strew with roses, 
though thorns should thicken around 
his own. Even at the moment when 
his arm is raised to inflict chastisement 
on thy folly, thou shouldst bend and 
bless thy parent. The heart loathes 
the hand that corrects thy errors ; and 
not for worlds would he use the rod of 
reproof, did he not perceive the neces- 
sity of crushing his own feelings, to 
save thee from thyself. — Selected. 


“ No honest man will urge his friend 
to do a dishonest thing for his sake.” 


270 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



A Journey in a Balloon. 


t EADER, how would you like to 
make an excursion in a bal- 
loon, of some four or five 
miles straight up in the air ? It 
is rather dangerous traveling, we 
should think. Yet some have travel- 
ed in this manner. The lamented 
Willis Gaylord Clark once wrote a 
detailed account of a voyage made 
in a balloon, and although it is pro- 
bably a fancy sketch, we have a 
mind to copy part of it for our read- 
ers. It is amusing and instructive, 
at any rate. The air-traveler, or 
aeronaut, as he is called, is supposed 
to embark from the Battery, in the 
city of New York. He gives a mi- 
nute account of the manner in which 
his gas was made from the oil of 
vitriol and scraps of iron, and tells us 
how his balloon was filled. But we 
must pass over these details, as the 
article is a long one, and let the story 


commence where his journey does. 
He says : 

The amphitheatre was now filled ; 
the Battery trees “ bore men •” the 
bay was crowded with craft of all 
sorts, and every eminence in the 
neighborhood was clothed with clus- 
ters of human beings. 

My gay wicker-car was now at- 
tached, with the minutest care, to the 
long cords that depended from the 
buoyant globe above. * I was looking 
at my watch, observing that the time 
of twenty had dwindled to eight mi- 
nutes, when I heard the cry of 
“ Fire !” I sprang toward the aero- 
stat, as if a bullet had perforated my, 
heart. “ Where ?” said I. “There, 
in the balloon V* was the answer. 
Looking upward, I perceived that 
the netting had become entangled 
with the valve, which ever and anon 
flew open, as the wind surged against 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


271 


the balloon, and the gas, mixed with 
vapor, issued from the aperture, resem- 
bling smoke. The netting was soon 
disengaged ; and the valve, closed and 
held by its stout springs, remained 
firm in its place. 

My hour had now come, and I en- 
tered the car. With a singular taste, 
the band struck up at this moment the 
melting air of “ Sweet Home.” It 
almost overcame me. A thousand 
associations of youth, friends, of all 
that I must leave, rushed upon my 
mind. A buzz ran through the assem- 
blage ; unnumbered hands were clap- 
ping, unnumbered hearts beating high ; 
and I was the cause. Every eye was 
upon me. There was pride in the 
thought. 

“ Let go ! ” was the word. The 
cheers redoubled, handkerchiefs waved 
from many a fair hand, bright faces 
beamed from every window, and on 
every side. One dash with my knife, 
and I rose aloft, a habitant of air. 

How magnificent was the sight which 
now burst upon me ! How sublime 
were my sensations! I waved the 
flag of my country; the cheers of 
the multitude from a thousand house- 
tops reached me on the breeze ; and a 
taste of the rarer atmosphere elevated 
my spirits into ecstasy. The city, with 
a brilliant sunshine striking the spires 
and domes, now unfolded to view a sight 
incomparably beautiful. My gondola 
went easily upward, clearing the depths 
of heaven, like a vital thing. A dia- 
gram placed before you, on the table, 
could not permit you to trace more 
definitely than I now could, the streets, 
the highways, basins, wharves, and 
squares of the town. The theatres 


and public buildings I recognized from 
their location % near parks or open 
grounds, and from the peculiarity of 
their being covered with various me- 
tals, as well as slate, or tiles. The 
hum of the city arose to my ear, as 
from a vast bee-hive ; and I seemed 
the monarch-bee, directing the swarm. 

I heard the rattling of carriages, the 
hearty yo-heave-o! of sailors from the 
docks, that, begirt with spars, hemmed 
the city round : I was a spectator of 
all, yet aloof and alone. Increasing 
stillness attended my way ; and at 
last the murmurs of earth came to 
my ear like the last vibrations of a 
bell. 

My car tilted and trembled as I rose. 
A swift wind sometimes gave the bal- 
loon a rotary motion, which made me 
deathly sick for a moment ; but strong 
emotion conquered all my physical ail- 
ings. My brain ached with the intens- 
ity of my rapture. Human sounds 
had fainted from my ear. I was in 
the abyss of heaven, and alone with 
my God. I could tell my direction 
by the sun on my left; and as his 
rays played on the aerostat, it seemed 
only a bright bubble, wavering in the 
sky, and I a suspended mote, hung by 
chance to its train. Looking below 
me, the distant Sound and Long Island 
appeared to the east ; the Bay lay to the 
south, sprinkled with shipping ; under 
me the city, girded with bright rivers 
and sparry forests ; the free wind was 
on my cheek and in my locks; afar, 
the ocean rolled its long blue waves, 
checkered with masses of shadow, 
and gushes of ruby sunlight; to the 
north and west, the interminable land, 
variegated like a map, dotted with 


272 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


purple, and green, and silver, faded to 
the eye. 

The atmosphere which I now breathed 
seemed to dilate my heart at every 
breath. I uttered some audible ex- 
pression. My voice was weaker than 
the faintest sound of a reed. There 
was no object near to make it reverb 
or echo. Though rising with incre- 
dible swiftness, I had nothing to con- 
vince my eye that I was not nearly 
still. The weak flap, flap, flap, of the 
cords against the balloon, in regular 
motion, as the trembling aerostat, moved 
by its subtle contents, continued to rise, 
was all that indicated my tendency. 
My barometer now denoted an im- 
mense height ; and as I looked upward 
and around, the concave above seemed 
like a mighty waste of purple air, 
verging to blackness. Below, it was 
lighter ; but a long, lurid bar of cloud 
stretched along the west, temporarily 
excluding the sun. The shadows 
rushed afar into the void, and a sol- 
emn, Sabbath twilight reigned around. 
I was now startled at a fluttering in 
my gondola. It was my compagnon 
du voyage , the carrier pigeon. I had 
forgotten him entirely. I attached a 
string to his neck, with a label an- 
nouncing my height, then nearly four 
miles, and the state of the barometer. 
As he sat on the side of the car, and 
turned his tender eyes upon me in 
mute supplication, every feather shi- 
vering with apprehension, I felt that it 
was a guilty act to push him into the 
waste beneath. But it was done; he 
attempted to rise, but I outsped him ; 
he then fell obliquely, fluttering and 
moaning, till I lost him in the haze. 

My greatest altitude had not yet 


been reached. I was now five miles 
from terra firma. I began to breathe 
with difficulty. The atmosphere was 
too rare for safe respiration. I pulled 
my valve-cord to descend. It refused 
to obey my hand. For a moment I 
was horror-struck. What was to be 
done? If I ascended much higher, 
the balloon would explode. I threw 
over some tissue paper, to test my 
progress. It is well known that this 
will rise very swiftly. It fell , as if 
blown downward by a wind from the 
zenith. I was going upward like an 
arrow. I attempted to pray, but my 
parched lips could not move. I seized 
the cord again, with desperate energy. 
Blessed heaven! it moved. I threw 
out more tissue. It rose to me like a 
a wing of joy. I was descending. 
Though far from sunset, it was now 
dark about me, except a track of 
blood-red haze, in the direction of the 
sun. I encountered a strong current 
of wind ; mist was about me ; it lay 
like dew upon my coat. At last, a 
thick bar of vapor being past, what 
a scene was disclosed ! A storm was 
sweeping through the sky, nearly a 
mile beneath, and I looked down upon 
an ocean of rainbows , rolling in inde- 
scribable grandeur to the music of 
the thunder-peal, as it moaned afar 
and near, on the coming and dying 
wind. A frightened eagle had as- 
cended through the tempest, and sailed 
for minutes by my side, looking at 
me with panting weariness and qui- 
vering mandibles, but with a dilated 
eye, whose keen iris flashed unsub- 
dued. Proud emblem of my country ! 
As he fanned me with his heavy 
wings, and looked with a human intel- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


273 


ligence at the car, my pulse bounded 
with exulting rapture. Like the genius 
of my native land, he had risen above 
every storm, unfettered and free ! 
But my transports were soon at an 
end. He attempted to light on the 
balloon, and my heart sunk ; I feared 
his huge claws would tear the silk. 
I pulled my cord ; he rose, as I sank, 
and the blast swept him from my view 
in a moment. A flock of wild fowl, 
beat by the storm, were coursing be- 
low, on bewildered pinions, and as I 
was nearing them, I knew I was de- 
scending. A singular effect was now 
produced by my position. It was a 
double horizon, one formed by the outer 
edge of the upper cloud, and the other 
by the angle of the eye to the extreme 
strata of the storm over the earth. A 
breaking rift now admitted the sun. 
The rainbows tossed and gleamed ; 
chains of fleecy rack, shining in pris- 
matic rays of gold, and purple, and em- 
erald, “beautiful exceedingly,’’ spread 
on every hand. Vast curtains of cloud 
pavilioning the immensity, brighter 
than celestial roses, or “jasper, bdel- 
lium, or the ruby stone,” glittered 
around ; masses of mist were lifted on 
high, like steps of living fire, more 
radiant than the sun himself, when 
his glorious noontide culminates from* 
the equator. A kind of aerial Euro- 
clydon now smote my ear ; and three 
of the cords parted, which tilted my 
gondola to the side, filling me with 
terror. I caught the broken cords 
in my hand, but could not tie them. 
They had been dragged over the 
broken carboy of oil of vitriol, of 
which I have spoken, and had rotted 
asunder. 


The storm below was now rapidly 
passing away, and beneath its waving 
outline, to the southeast, I saw the 
ocean. Ships were speeding on their 
course, and their bright sails melting 
into distance ; a rainbow hung afar, 
and the rolling anthems of the Atlan- 
tic came like celestial hymnings to my 
ear. 

Presently, all was clear below me. 
The fresh air played around. I had 
taken a noble circuit, and my last 
view was better than the first. I was 
far over the Bay, “ afloating sweetly 
to the west.” The city, colored by 
the last blaze of day, brightened re- 
motely to the view. Below, ships 
were hastening to and fro through 
the Narrows, and the far country lay 
smiling like an Eden. Bright rivers 
ran like ribands of gold and silver, 
till they were lost in the vast inland, 
stretching beyond the veiw ; the gilded 
mountains were flinging their purple 
shadows over many a vale ; bays were 
blushing to the farewell day-beams; 
and now I was passing over a green 
island. I sailed to the main land, 
saw the tall old trees waving to the 
evening breeze, heard the rural lowing 
of herds, heard the welcome sound of 
human voices, and finally, sweeping 
over forest tops and embowered vil- 
lages, at last descended with the sun, 
among a kind-hearted, surprised, and 
hospitable community, in as pretty a 
town as one could desire to see, “ safe 
and well.” 


“ Fire createth all things, and de- 
stroyeth all things. A little is life, 
but a great deal is death.” 


274 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



General Putnam. 


UR young readers have probably 
ft all heard of General Israel 
Jf Putnam. He was a very re- 
markable man. What a daring 
feat he performed in the wolf’s den. 
When a little boy at school, we used 
to think he was just about the most 
courageous man that ever lived ; and 
many a time has our boyish imagin- 
ation been set to work, to draw a 
picture of the old veteran in that 
dark den, with the growling wolf by 
the ears. Putnam was our hero, of 
all others. Then we thought bears, 
tigers, and wolves were the most 
formidable enemies mankind had to 
contend with. We think differently 
now. 

General Putnam was a native of 
Connecticut. His character is sketch- 
ed with a masterly hand by Headley, 
in his book, entitled “ Washington and 


his Generals.” We must quote a 
line or two from this book of Head- 
ley’s : “ In person he was stout, and 
his rough, weather-beaten face indi- 
cated the boisterous life he had led. 
His courage was proverbial in the 
army, and his fortitude was equal 
to his courage. Headlong as an 
avalanche in the charge, he was, 
nevertheless, patient under restraint. 
He would go any where, dare any 
danger, if he could only get his men 
to follow him. At the same time, 
he was perfectly cool and self-possessed 
in the fight, and would stand all alone 
amid the raining balls, as calmly as 
if he were impervious to death. 
Whether facing down an angry wolf, 
or standing wrapped in flame and 
smoke before a magazine of powder, 
or hurrying his men with shouts to 
the onset, or sending up the first strong, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


275 


great war-cry from the top of Bunker 
Hill, he is the same fearless and 
resolute man. He moves through 
his eventful career, like one who 
bears a charmed life. His history 
seems stranger than fiction. Exposed 
to every variety of peril, and sub- 
jected to all forms of trial, his iron 
frame held out to three score years, 
and his stout will even after that.” 


The Quaker and the Little Thief. 

/j^yVHiLDREN, have you ever heard 
j If of Isaac T. Hopper, or Friend 
Isaac , as he is familiarly call- 
Nsea *® ed ? He belongs to the society 
of Friends ; and if you should ever 
happen to meet him, you would not 
i need to be told that he was a very 
| good-natured man, not particularly 
averse to an occasional joke. If you 
; should become better acquainted with 
I him, moreover, you would find out 
i that he had within him a very deep 
mine of humor, and that this humor 
i frequently found an outlet in the 
I shape of story-telling. Well, a few 
| days ago, the old gentleman came 
| into our office ; and among the sto- 
ries he told was one which we must 
j retell. Perhaps it will not be .espe- 
cially appropriate to any of our 
j young readers ; but it will do no 
I harm, at any rate. We will try to 
i give his own words, as nearly as 
possible, though the types can never 
I be taught to do justice to friend 
Isaac’s stories : 

While residing in Philadelphia, I 
had in my yard a pear-tree, which 
bore most excellent fruit. Between 


my yard and that of one of my 
neighbors, was a very high fence, 
with sharp iron pickets upon it. Now 
I did not put these sharp pickets 
there. I don’t approve of such things. 
It was the landlord’s work. Well, 
one year, when the pear-tree bore 
very abundantly, there happened to 
be a girl belonging to my neigh- 
bor’s family, who was as fond of 
pears as I was myself, and I saw 
her several times climb the high 
fence, and walk carefully along be- 
tween the pickets, until she came 
opposite the pear-tree. Then she 
would reach over, fill her basket 
with fruit, and carry it away. 

One day I called upon my young 
friend with a basket of the nicest 
pears I could find. 

“ Rebecca,” said I, “ here are some 
fine pears for thee.” 

She did not know what I meant. 

I explained : “ Rebecca, I brought 

these pears on purpose for thee. I 
wish to make thee a present of them, 
as I see thou art fond of them.” 

“ I don’t want them, sir.” 

“ Ah, but thou dost, Rebecca ; else 
thou would not take so much pains 
almost every day to get them.” 

Still she would not take the pears, 
and I used a little more eloquence : 

“ Rebecca,” I said, “ thou must 
go and get a basket for these pears, 
or I shall leave them on the carpet. 
I am sure thou must like them, or 
thou would not climb such a high 
and dangerous fence to get them. 
Those pickets aie very sharp, Re- 
becca ; and if thy feet should slip 
while thou art walking along on the 
fence — and I am very much afraid 


276 


« 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


they will — thou would get hurt a 
great deal more than the pears are 
worth. Now thou art welcome to 
the fruit ; but I hope I shall not 
see thee expose thyself any more so 
foolishly. But perhaps thou hast ta- 
ken the pears so long, that they 
seem to belong to thee, as much as 
they belong to me. So I do not 
wish to blame thee, any more than 
thy conscience does. But, pray, look 
out for those pickets. They are dan- 


gerous. I would have them remo- 
ved, only I am afraid the landlord 
would not like it. Thou art wel 
come to the pears, though, and I 
will bring thee a basket full every 
day.” 

The little girl did not steal any 
more pears ; and I venture to say 
she was sufficiently rebuked /before 
the end of the pear season, for I re- 
membered my promise, and carried 
her a basket full every morning. 



My Mother in 

VfOv^ 0THING used to impress upon 
ym my mind so strongly the reality 
IMl and excellence of religion, as 
my mother’s counsels and 
prayers. Very frequently she retired 
with her children to a private room ; 
and after she had read the Bible with 
us, and given us some good instruction 
and advice, kneeled down with us 
and offered a prayer, which, for ap- 
parent earnestness and fervor, I have 
seldom known equalled. These sea- 


her Closet. 

sons were always pleasant to us ; and 
sometimes we looked forward to them 
with impatience. My mother seemed 
to me then almost an angel ; her lan- 
guage, her manner, the very expres- 
sion of her countenance, indicating 
great nearness to the throne of grace. 
I could not have shown levity at such 
times. It would have been impossible. 
I felt then that it was a great blessing 
to have a praying mother ; and I have 
felt it much more sensibly since* 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


277 


Those counsels and prayers time can 
never efface from my memory. They 
form, as it were, a part of my very 
constitution . — Theodore Thinker . 


Biography of Our Dog Banquo. 

were but six months’ differ- 
I ence in our ages. I am not in 
my teens , so I may say his life 
was a short one. Banquo be- 
longed to that class of the canine 
species well known as the Newfound- 
land. His rapid growth developed 
equally the noble form and sagacious 
traits that so peculiarly distinguish this 
branch of that family. 

He was a white, shaggy dog, with 
a few large brown spots ; and, when 
grown, weighed seventy pounds. He 
had a pleasant countenance, was or- 
derly, well disposed, and watchful at 
nights. We had but to rap upon the 
glass, and he would search the premi- 
ses, and bark so loudly as to be heard 
and known, on calm nights, for miles 
around, as we have been told. To 
swim about in the creek appeared his 
delight. On one occasion, he brought 
from a schooner the key of our store ; 
and on another, with the chain of a 
boat fastened around his neck, swam 
across our creek, a hundred yards 
wide, to take in a man wishing to cross. 

Had he been properly trained, I 
have often heard my father say, he 
would have puzzled the physiologist 
to point out the line between instinct 
and reason. He not only would lead 
a horse, carry a key, swim with a 
boat, drive geese, take a basket of corn 
to the hogs, but I had a little willow 


carriage, into which we would harness 
him, and he' would take two^of us little 
children as far as half a mile from 
home, trotting along, appearing all the 
while to take the greatest pride in his 
exploit. 

But Banquo is dead. We are sorry 
to have to record it. My father’s pur- 
suits required him to spend three 
winters in Baltimore, to complete his 
professional studies, during which time 
we left our much beloved and valuable 
dog Banquo at our country home, for 
fear of losing him. Each spring we 
found him poorer in flesh than we left 
him ; but the last time, his haggard 
look and wasted frame told too well 
that want or disease was consuming 
his vitals. Truly, he was the “ ghost 
of Banquo.” 

He continued to waste, till one day 
he went to the creek to drink some 
water. We heard he had fallen in, 
and we all left our dinner and had 
him brought upon the green bank. 
But in a few moments he ceased to 
breathe. R. A. d. w. 

Tracey’s Landing, July, 1847. 


“ As a noble lord and gentleman were 
standing together, a boy came along 
leading a calf with both hands. Says 
the lord to the gentleman, ‘You shall 
see me make that boy let go his calf.’ 
He then advanced toward the boy, ex- 
pecting that he would pull off his hat ; 
but the boy took no notice of him. 
‘Sirrah,’ said his lordship, ‘do you 
know who I am?’ ‘Yes, my lord,’ 
answered the boy. ‘If your lordship 
will please to come and hold the calf, 
I will pull off my hat to you.’ ” 



278 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



The Chinese Junk. 


ms picture is a very good repre- 
sentation of a queer-looking ves- 
sel, which has just visited New 
York, from China. It is one 
of the junks, or vessels, used in the 
Celestial Empire. We have been on 
board of her, and were very much 
interested in the curiosities she brought 
from China. Her name is Keying, 
and she is commanded by an English- 
man. She was two hundred qnd 
twelve days coming from Canton, touch- 


ing at St. Helena on her way. The 
description of this singular vessel we 
compile in part from other sources. 
The Keying is built of teak wood, one 
hundred and fifty feet long, twenty-five 
feet beam, and twelve feet depth of hold. 
Her cabin is thirty feet long, ten and a 
half high, and twenty-three feet wide. 
She is shaped almost like a half moon, 
her bow and stern being much higher 
than the middle of the vessel. Her 
stem, we believe, is forty feet from the 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


water. Her rudder is suspended in a 
curious fashion, by two cables, made 
of rattan or bamboo. It weighs seven 
tons, and is hoisted or lowered as oc- 
casion requires ; its immersion being 
twenty-three feet when down, and 
twelve feet when up. Her cabin is 
decorated with a host of painted birds, 
tigers, and other animals. 

The hold is divided into compart- 
ments by partitions of stout plank, the 
seams being caulked with a cement 
of lime and oil, which becomes hard 
when dry. The compass is shut up 
in a small bowl with a quantity of 
sand in the bottom, in which are stuck 
perfumed matches when offerings are 
intended to be made to the “ Deity of 
the Sea.” To this divinity, also, an 
altar, well stored with trinkets, matches, 
and colored wax candles, is erected at 
the extremity of the cabin, which is 
very small, and around it are the berths 
of the crew, just large enough to con- 
tain their persons. Each berth has a 
mat and hard-stuffed cushion for a pil- 
low. The Chinese generally embark in 
great numbers, and all the crew appear 
to take an equal interest and share in 
the conducting of the vessel. They 
do not have a fixed salary, but have a 
portion of the profits accruing from the 
voyage or service performed. All their 
fluids are contained in jars, and their 
solids are packed in cases or pail-shaped 
tubs — the Chinese never putting a sec- 
ond head into a cask ; whether this 
arises from ignorance or obstinacy is 
uncertain, but it is a fact that a cask 
closed at both ends is never seen in 
China. 

The Keying is the gayest vessel that 
has ever been seen in this latitude. 

9 * 


27 /> 

Her poop-deck is four feet higher than 
any of the English man-of-war vessels. 
It is more than half mast high. Her 
anchor is of wood, and shaped like an 
Indian arrow, and bound with bamboo 
and iron. Her cable is formed of bam- 
boo twisted. Her sails are of a reed or 
straw matting, with stout bamboos at 
intervals of two to two and a half feet, 
extending horizontally along the sur- 
face ; and to either extremity of these 
bamboos are attached lines for the pur- 
pose of adjusting 'the sails to the wind. 
When it is desired to reef the sails, they 
are rolled up from the bottom by as 
many of these spaces as are thought 
necessary. By her side are many poles, 
used in her own rivers to propel her. 
Her bows, instead of having bulwarks, 
are open like the Hoboken and other 
ferry boats. She has three upright 
masts with latteen sails. Her stem is 
five feet higher than that of a seventy- 
four. She is built in the form of a 
whale boat, and there are two great 
eyes in her bows. She is painted white 
as far as the foremast : then red to the 
stern. She has nine ports on each side, 
which are painted white, red, and black. 
As she now lies, the junk cost seventy- 
five thousand dollars. The crew of this 
singular craft consists of forty China- 
men, and twenty Europeans. 

It is stated that she was originally 
built as a yacht for a rich Chinaman ; 
but as the contract was not filled ac- 
cording to the wishes of the celestial, 
he refused to take her ; and she thus 
fell into the hands of the present owner. 
She has been brought to this port for 
exhibition, and is partly laden with rich 
curiosities. She has also on board a 
number of Chinese men, but no women. 


280 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


It is said that the owner is an En- 
glishman, and that his intention is to 
return by the way of London, where he 
will exhibit her. She is certainly a 
very great curiosity, and will attract 
thousands from abroad to look at her. 
The captain represents her to be a fine 
sea boat, sustaining herself bravely 
through some severe weather. We 
suppose we must take his word for that. 
But really, if we were to travel to the 
opposite side of the globe, we should 
desire to sail in a very different craft 
from this. How she ever came so far, 
provided the sea was at all rough, is 
more than we can tell. We do not 
mean to slander the vessel. But with- 
out the aid of a picture, such as we have 
presented our readers, it would be 
impossible to conceive of a more uncouth 
looking thing, than this same famous 
Chinese junk. We are not much of a 
sailor, never having doubled Cape Horn, 
much less made a voyage to Canton ; 
but judging of the abilities of this vessel 
from her appearance, we think we would 
about as lief go to sea in a good large 
scow. However, facts are better than 
theories ; or, rather, theories are not 
worth much, unless they are made up 
of facts ; and these Chinese vessels, rude 
as they seem to be, are tolerable sailors 
after all. For the commerce of China, 
they do well enough. It is well known 
that the Chinese make long voyages in 
their commercial intercourse with the 
Phillipine, Molucca, and other islands of 
the Indian Archipelago. They trade also 
with Java, the Malay peninsula, and the 
coasts of Siam and Cochin China. In 
crossing the China seas, they always take 
advantage of the monsoons, as from their 
bulk and light draught of water, the 


vessels are ill calculated to make way 
against the wind ; but these same reasons 
operate in assisting their velocity with 
favorable winds. Although they do not 
appear well adapted to withstand heavy 
seas, yet the fishermen who abound 
along the coast, and yet whose vessels 
•are the only homes for themselves and 
families, willingly brave very bad 
weather in the pursuit of their calling ; 
and owing probably to their buoyancy, 
it seldom occurs that any founder. 


Russian Exiles. 

! n Russia, criminals are very gene- 
rally exiled to Siberia. Some, who 
have been guilty of great crimes, 
are compelled to work in the mines. 
This is justly regarded as very severe 
punishment. Others, who have been 
guilty of only petty larcenies, are settled 
in villages or on farms, and treated 
much more kindly. A great many are 
banished only because they happen to 
have expressed some opinions contrary 
to those held by the government ; for 
our readers must remember that in 
Russia people cannot say and write 
what they please. In our country, 
there is perfect freedom of speech and 
of the press. But it is not so there. 
How thankful we ought to be to our 
heavenly Father, that he permits us to 
live under such an excellent govern- 
ment. Some of the exiles to Siberia- 
who go there for small offences, get rich 
after a while. Sir George Simpson, an 
English gentleman who has just return- 
ed from that country, visited a gentleman 
who was banished from St. Petersburgh 
some years ago, and who has now one 
I hundred and forty persons in his pay. 


THE SOUTH’S CABINET. 


281 


Wood-Gathering. 

Translated from the German for the Cabinet. 

BY MRS. ST. SIMON. 

f wo boys, the sons of poor pa- 
rents, went one autumn day into 
a wood to gather dry sticks. 
One of them, the son of a pious 
widow, was called Edward ; the other 
one, Matthew, had a harsh step-mother, 
who lived at variance with his father. 

When the boys reached the wood, 
they agreed to return home in company, 
but in the mean while they separated 
to gather dry branches. Edward la- 
bored industriously, and when he saw 
a withered branch upon a tree, he 
clambered up, and broke it off. In a 
shoit time he had collected a heavy 
bundle, and tied it firmly together. 

He then ran toward the other side 
of the wood, and called after his com- 
panion. The latter answered him 
from a distance, and as Edward came 
up, he found him gathering nuts among 
tne bushes. When Edward saw him, 
he said, “ Come, let us return home. 
Where is your bundle ?” Matthew 
replied, “ How ! are you ready so 
soon ? I have found nothing, as yet.” 

Edward wondered at this, and when 
he heard that he had only been looking 
after nuts, he said, “ Come, I will help 
you make up your bundle, or else we 
cannot return together, for my mother 
is waiting for me.” 

Matthew then took from his pocket 
a curved knife, and looked about to 
see if any one was near. But Ed- 
ward said, “ What are you going to 
do ? ” The other replied, “ Do you 
collect a few dry branches to lay on 
tne outside; I will look out for the 


rest.” Upon this, he began to cut 
down a young sapling with his knife. 

Edward was startled, and said, 
“ Matthew ! Matthew ! do not cut down 
the young trees! that were a sin and 
a shame. If the forester should dis- 
cover it, he would forbid us all to 
gather sticks, and the poor people would 
have to do without wood in the cold 
winter ; and it would be your fault. 
That must never be; wait a little, I 
will manage it.” 

Edward then looked around, and 
discovered an old oak with a number 
of dead branches, and he clambered 
up like a squirrel and broke off the 
dried boughs. But Matthew stood look- 
ing on in wonder. 

Before a half hour had elapsed, they 
had wood enough, and Edward made 
up a bundle, and carried it and placed 
it by his own, and said to Matthew, 
“ Well, take it upon your shoulders.” 

But Matthew said, “ Give me the 
other, for that is smaller and lighter.” 
Then Edward laughed and said, “You 
are taller and stronger than I am ; but 
just as you please.” 

So they shouldered their bundles 
and walked on. But Matthew panted 
and complained, and before they had 
left the wood, he begged Edward to 
stop and rest, for he was very tired ; 
and when he saw some hazel bushes, 
he wished to go and see if he could 
not find some nuts. But Edward re- 
strained him, and said, “ I must return 
to my mother.” 

When they had walked a little way 
upon the high road, Matthew grew im- 
patient ; he cast his bundle upon the 
ground, and cried, “You have made it 
too heavy ;” and he pulled out some 


282 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


thick sticks and threw them aside, and 
said, “Let him take them who will.” 
But Edward took them up and tied 
them with his own. “I will carry 
them for you, till we get to the city,” 
he said. 

Then Matthew wondered at the kind- 
ness and strength of his companion, 
and gazed upon him and sa^id, “Who 
has taught you all this, and what gives 
you such strength ?” 

Edward answered, “ Love for my 
mother !” Then Matthew sighed and 
wept. 


How to Manage Neighbors. 

t ONCE had a neighbor who, though 
a clever man, came to me one 
day, and said, “Squire White, I 
want you to come and get your 
geese away.” 

“ Why,” said I, “ what have my 
geese been doing?” 

“ They pick my pigs’ ears when 
they are eating, and drive them away, 
and I will not have it.” 

“ What can I do ?” said I. 

“You must yoke them.” 

“ That I have not time to do now,” 
said I ; “I do not see but they must 
run.” 

“ If you do not take care of them, I 
shall,” said the clever shoemaker, in 
anger. “ What do you say, Squire 
White ?” 

“I cannot take care of them now, 
but I will pay you for all damages.” 

“Well,” said he, “you will find 
that a hard bargain, I guess.” 

So off he went, and I heard a terrible 
squalling among the geese. The next 


news from my geese was, three of them 
were missing. My children went, and 
found them terribly mangled and dead, 
and thrown into the bushes. 

“ Now,” said I, “ all keep still, and 
let me punish him.” In a few days 
the shoemaker’s hogs broke into my 
corn. I saw them there, but let them 
remain a long time. At last, I drove 
them all out, and picked up the corn 
which they had torn down, and fed 
them with it in the road. By this time, 
the shoemaker came in great haste after 
them. 

“Have you seen any thing of my 
hogs ?” said he. 

“Yes, sir; you will find them yon- 
der, eating up some corn which they 
tore down in my field.” 

“ In your field ?” 

V Yes, sir,” said I ; “ hogs love corn, 
you know ; they were made to eat it.” 

“How much mischief have they 
done?” 

“ Oh, not much,” said I. 

Well, he went to look, and estima- 
ted the damage to be equal to a bushel 
and a half of corn. 

“Oh, no,” said I; “it can’t be.” 

“ Yes,” said the shoemaker ; “ and I 
will pay you every cent of damage.” 

“ No,” replied I ; “ you will pay me 
nothing. My geese have been a great 
trouble to you.” 

The shoemaker blushed, and went 
home. 

The next winter, when we came to 
settle, the shoemaker was determined to 
pay me for my corn. 

“ No,” said I ; “I shall take no- 
thing.” 

After some talk, we parted ; but in a 
day or two, I met him on the road, and 


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283 


fell into conversation in a friendly- 
manner. But when I started on, he 
seemed loth to move, and paused. 
For a moment both of us were silent. 
At last, he said : 

“ I have something laboring on my 
mind.” 

“ Well, what is it ?” 

“ Those geese. I killed three or 
four of your geese, and shall never 
rest till you know how I feel. I am 
sorry.” And the tears came into his 
eyes. 

“ Oh, well,” said I, “ never mind ; 
I suppose my geese were provoking.” 

I never took any thing of him for it ; 
but whenever my cattle broke into his 
field, after this, he seemed glad, be- 
cause he could show how patient he 
could be. 

“ Now,” said the narrator, “ conquer 
yourself, and you can conquer with 
kindness where you can conquer in 
no other way.” — Selected. 


Emblem of Salvation. 

& short time since, a vessel was 
sailing calmly and securely 
over the soft blue wave. The 
voice of song arose, and min- 
gled its melodies with the light air 
around. Home, sweet home, was the 
theme which gladdened every heart. 
But, ah ! thou treacherous sea ! Thou 
deceitful wind ! How changed the 
scene ! The voice of song is departed, 
ioy and gladness are no more. Instead 
of the music of soft symphonies, are 
heard the clamors of despair, the thun- 
der’s mighty roar, old ocean’s harsh 
sounds, and the howling of the storm. I 


The ship is driven fiercely before the 
gale, sails are rent, one of the masts is 
gone by the board, ruin steers the ill- 
fated ship ; she strikes upon a reef, the 
billows roll over her, the crew are 
washed overboard. Night thickens 
around with his stormy horrors ; man- 
fully the drowning wretches buffet the 
waves ; the lightning flings its lurid 
glare around, and shows them their 
awful condition ; again it lightens, and 
they descry a rock, lifting its head 
above the billows, and promising a 
place of safety. Hope revives ; they 
swim for the rock ; soon “ they make 
it.” See ! they have got upon it. 
Now they are safe ! 

The vessel, sailing joyfully and se- 
curely before the gale began, may re- 
present the safe and happy condition of 
our first parents before they were as- 
sailed by the storms of temptation ; the 
drowning mariners denote the deplora- 
ble state of mankind since the fall, who 
are sinking amid the waves of guilt 
and woe; the tempest overhead de- 
notes the storm that howls over the 
head of every sinner, in consequence 
of the violation of Jehovah’s law. Si- 
nai thunders forth its curses, and flash- 
es its lightnings around the sinner’s 
path, in order to show him his weak- 
ness, his guilt, and his danger. As 
the lightning points the drowning sailor 
to the rock, so the law directs or opens 
the way to Christ, that the sinner might 
be justified by faith in him. 

The rock, rising in the troubled 
ocean, affording a shelter from the ship- 
wreck, represents Christ, the Rock of 
Ages, who has borne all the fury of the 
storm for man, and who, by his cross, 
giveth life and light to a dying world. 


284 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The penitent sinner, feeling himself 
sinking in the mighty waters, and 
tremblingly alive to the dangers of 
the tempest above, and to the more 
fearful dangers of the rolling waves 
beneath, escapes to the Rock, em- 
braces the cross, and is safe. 

Jesus, lover of my soul. 

Let me to thy bosom fly, 

While the nearer waters roll, 

While the tempest still is high. 

Hide me, O my Savior, hide, 

Till the storm of life is past ; 

Safe into the haven guide, 

0 receive my soul at last. Selected. 


Mason and Dixon’s Line. 

ur readers have heard a great 
11 deal about this line, and they 
if are probably most of them 
* aware that it is the boundary 
between the slave states on the south, 
and the free states on the north. It 
had not originally any thing to do with 
the vexed question of slavery, as when 
it was run, and for some time afterward, 
slavery existed in states situated much 
farther north. The Albany Evening 
Journal contains an account of the ori- 
gin and purpose of this line, and we 
will tell our young friends about it, very 
nearly in the words of this excellent 
journal : As early as the year 1682, a 
dispute arose between William Penn and 
Lord Baltimore, respecting the construc- 
tion of their respective grants, of what 
now form the states of Pennsylvania, 
Delaware, and Maryland. Lord Balti- 
more claimed to, and including the for- 
tieth degree of north latitude ; and Wil- 
liam Penn mildly, yet firmly, resisted 
the claim. The debateable land was 


one degree of sixty-nine English miles 
on the south of Pennsylvania, and ex- 
tended west as far as the state itself. 
Tha matter was finally brought into the 
Court of Chancery, in England, and 
after tedious delays, on the fifteenth 
of May, 1750, Lord Chancellor Hard- 
wick made a decree, awarding costs 
against Lord Baltimore, and directing 
that commissioners should be appointed 
to mark the boundaries between the par- 
ties. The commissioners so appointed 
met at Newcastle on the fifteenth day 
of November, 1755, and not being able 
to agree, separated. After a further 
litigation and delay, the whole matter 
was settled by the mutual agreement 
among the surviving heirs of the origi- 
nal litigants. 

In the year 1761, Mr. Charles Mason, 
of the royal observatory, was sent to 
Pennsylvania, with all needful astrono- 
mical instruments, to measure a degree 
of latitude. The duty he performed, 
and a report of his proceedings was 
made to the Royal Society of London, 
for the year 1767. This Mr. Mason 
and Jeremiah Dixon were appointed to 
run the line in dispute, which appears 
to have been done in conformity with 
the Lord Chancellor’s decree. This is 
the famous “ Mason and Dixon’s Line,” 
and the boundary between Pennsylva- 
nia on the south, and Maryland on the 
north. A more detailed account will 
be found in Douglass’ History of Ame- 
rica, published in Boston, in 1751. 

Little did the actors in this matter 
think that in after times, the line esta- 
blished with so much trouble and ex- 
pense, would ever be connected with a 
subject calculated to shake a great na- 
tion to its centre. 


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285 


Witchcraft at Home and Abroad. 

NUMBER I. 


Vr| ess than two centuries ago, a 
M great portion of the inhabitants 
MA of this country believed in the 
existence of witches. The Pu- 
ritans of New England are cited, as 
having been especially zealous in the 
matter of witch hanging. It is true, 
they entered into the business with an 
earnestness worthy of a better cause. 
A great many people were put to death 
in New England, for no other reason 
than that they were supposed to be 
guilty of the sin. of witchcraft. It seems 
strange to us who live in this age, that 
men so intelligent, and generally so well 
deserving as the Puritans, should have 
been so superstitious. But they were 
so — there is no disputing that fact ; and 
some of us, who trace our ancestry back 
to them, and are somewhat in their way 
of thinking in many respects, are re- 
minded of it, in no very complimentary 
terms, so often, that we are in no imme- 
diate danger of forgeting it. The hang- 
ing of witches in New England is a 
stain upon the character of our ances- 
tors, we admit. It was bad business. 
We have no disposition to say much, if 
any thing, by way of apology for it ; 
though every unprejudiced mind must 
allow that it resulted from a misguided 
religious zeal, rather than malice. But 
we think, nevertheless, that people who 
ridicule and blame the Puritans so 
much for their witch killing, ought to 
bear in mind that this superstition did 
not originate with these sincere though 
mistaken men. Why are they pointed 
at especially, as examples of this fool- 


ish, groundless persecution ? Did they 
stand alone in the thing ? Not by any 
means. We are content to let the 
historian of witchcraft tell his tale ; 
but he ought to tell the whole of it. 
Now, without any intention or wish to 
remove the stigma of superstition from 
the character of the early settlers of 
New England, suppose we look a little 
into this same history, and see what 
foundation there is for the opinion which 
is so common, that these men “ were 
sinners above all the Galileans” in 
this matter of witch hunting. 

The belief that certain individuals 
had supernatural power over their fel- 
low-creatures, is of very early origin. 
It existed long before the Christian era. 
But the superstition seems to have 
approached its height about the end 
of the fifteenth century. Pope Inno- 
cent, in 1484, published a bull, m 
which he enjoined it upon inquisitors 
to discover and destroy all such as 
were charged with witchcraft. Very 
soon after this bull, there followed a 
regular form of process and trial for 
suspected witches. This was called 
the hammer for witches. All judges 
were required to act upon this form in 
their trials. 

Several Popes afterward success- 
ively strengthened the bull of Inno- 
cent by more severe regulations. The 
results were dreadful. A fear of 
witchcraft took possession of society. 
Every one was at the mercy of his 
neighbor. If a person was accused, 
he was sure to be condemned, and 


286 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


execution shortly followed. If the ac- 
cused did not at once confess, they were 
ordered to be carefully examined for 
the devil’s marks — it being supposed 
that the evil one, when he set apart 
any witch, made some peculiar mark 
upon the person. So if any strange 
mark was discovered, it was set down 
to the account of witchcraft, and was 
evidence, of course, of the guilt of the 
party. If these marks were not dis- 
covered, torture was applied ; and 
many accused persons confessed the 
crime, in order to avoid the torture. 
They were immediately led to execu- 
tion ! 

The witch mania soon spread like 
wildfire all over Europe. In France, 
in Germany, in Spain, and other coun- 
tries on the continent, vast numbers 
suffered death for witchcraft. About 
the year 1515, five hundred witches 
were burned in Geneva in three months. 
In France, during the same interval, 
many thousands suffered for the same 
imaginary crime. 

A writer in the Foreign Quarterly 
Review, a few years since, to whom 
we are indebted for many of the facts 
in relation to the history of this super- 
stition, describes the mania as having 
raged with peculiar fury in Germany. 
In Wurtzburg, a small place compara- 
tively, there were one hundred and 
fifty-seven burned for witchcraft in two 
years from 1627 ; and there is very 
little doubt that the ratio was as great 
for a whole century. Consequently, 
we are forced to the conclusion, that 
nearly eight thousand persons were 
executed in Wurtzburg alone for witch- 
craft in one century ! In another dis- 
trict in Germany, the proportion of 


those that suffered death for the witch 
heresy, in four years, was one twen- 
tieth of the whole population. It is 
probable that the whole number of vic- 
tims in Germany, among Catholics and 
Protestants, was not less than a hundred 
thousand ! 

The mania respecting witchcraft 
found its way into Scotland very soon 
after the famous bull of Pope Inno- 
cent. In the reign of Queen Mary 
(of Scotland), it had become very ge- 
neral in that country. But the details 
of witchcraft in Scotland and in Eng- 
land we must reserve for another oc- 
casion. Meanwhile, would it not be as 
well to be a little lenient in our judg- 
ment of the Puritans of New England, 
when we think of their crusade against 
the imaginary evils of witchcraft ? 
They came pretty honestly by their opin- 
ions in this matter, however absurd these 
opinions may have been ; and why it 
comes to pass that they are made scape- 
goats for the sins of all the rest of the 
world, so far as witch hunting is con- 
cerned, we are quite unable to con- 
jecture. 


Etymology of Husband. 

he word husband, it seems, is 
a contraction from house-band. 
The head of a family is called 
husband from the fact that he 
is or ought to be the band which unites 
the house together — or the bond of 
union among the family. It is to be 
regretted that all husbands are not 
house-bands in reality as well as in 
name. There are a great many mis- 
nomers current in this world. 



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287 



Egyptian Water Pedlers. 

t HAT a great blessing it is to have 
plenty of pure water. We who 
have such a profusion of it, 
hardly know its value. The 
citizens of New York ought to be very 
thankful for the amount and excellence 
of the water which is brought into the 
city. Here we have not only enough 
of the softest and purest water for com- 
mon use, but there are several large 
public and private fountains, which are 
almost constantly sending their beauti- 
ful jets high in the air, and kissing our 
faces with their spray, as we pass them. 
How much such a supply of water must 
promote the health of the city. There 
are a great many parts of the world, 
where pure water is very scarce. 
In some parts of Egypt, there is so 
little to be had, that people are obliged 
to buy it, as we buy milk in New 
York. There are men who go about 
with water to sell, and are called water 
pedlers. The picture above represents 
one of them. He carries his water on 
his shoulders, you see. The vessel 
which holds it is made of the skin of 


some animal, we should judge, by the 
appearance of it. 


Touching Temperance Story. 

jTfc drunkard who had run through 
it jt his property, returned one night 
IfM to his unfurnished home. He 
^entered its empty hall ; anguish 
was gnawing at his heart-strings, and 
language is inadequate to express his 
agony as he entered his. wife’s apart- 
ment, and there beheld the victims of 
his appetite — his lovely wife and dar- 
ling child. Morose and sullen, he 
seated himself without a word ; he 
could not speak, he could not look up- 
on them. The mother said to the little 
angel by her side, “ Come, my child, it 
is time to go to bed ;” and the little 
babe, as her wont, knelt by her mo- 
ther’s lap, and gazing wistfully into 
the face of her suffering parent, like a 
piece of chiselled statuary, slowly re- 
peated her nightly orison ; and when 
she had finished, the child (but four 
years of age ) said to her mother, 
“ Dear ma, may I not offer up one 
more prayer?” “Yes, yes, my sweet 
pet, pray and she lifted up her tiny 
hands, closed her eyes, and prayed — 
“ O, God ! spare, oh spare my dear 
papa !” That prayer was wafted with 
electric rapidity to the throne of God. 
It was heard on high — ’twas heard on 
earth. The responsive “ Amen” burst 
from that father’s lips, and his heart of 
stone became a heart of flesh. Wife 
and child were both clasped to his bo- 
som, and in penitence he said, “ My 
child, you have saved your father from 
the grave of a drunkard. I’ll sign the 
pledge !” 


288 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Young Man and the Swallow. 

A FABLE. 

prodigal young spendthrift, 
JIbL who had wasted his whole pa- 
JJIfAl trimony, was taking a melan- 
choly walk near a brook. It 
was in the month of January, and hap- 
pened to be one of those warm days, 
which sometimes shine upon us, even 
at this wintry season of the year ; and 
to make it more flattering, a swallow 
which had made its appearance, by 
mistake, too soon, flew skimming along 
upon the surface of the water. 

The giddy youth, observing this, 
without any further consideration con- 
cluded that summer was now come, and 
that he should have little or no occasion 
for clothes; and so he went and sold 
them, and ventured the money for one 
stake more among his companions. 

When this, too, was gone the same 
way with the rest, he took another soli- 
tary walk in the same place. But the 
weather being severe and frosty, had 
made every thing look with an aspect 
very different from what it did before : 
the brook was quite frozen over, and 
the poor swallow lay dead upon the 
bank of it, the very sight of which 
cooled the young spark’s brains ; and 
coming to a kind of sense of his mise- 
ry, he reproached the dead bird as the 
author of all his misfortunes : “ Ah ! 
wretch that thou wert !” said he ; 
“thou hast undone both thyself and 
me, who was so- credulous as to depend 
upon thee.” 

MORAL. 

Who spends more than he should, 

Hath none to spend when he would. 

Selected. 


Names of the Days of the Week. 

f HE origin of the names of the days 
of the week, is perhaps not very 
generally understood. These 
names all originated a great 
while ago among Pagans. You have 
heard of the Northmen or Scandina- 
vians. The people who lived in the 
northern part of Europe, some time be- 
fore the Christian era, were so called. 
Well, they gave the names to the days 
of the week. They believed in the 
existence of numerous gods. Among 
the rest was one called Odin, or Wodin. 
He was the most powerful. Wednes- 
day, or Wodin’s day, was named after 
him. Thor was the god of Thunder. 
He gave the name to Thursday, or 
Thor’s day. Friday comes from Freya, 
another of their deities. Saturday is 
derived from the god Saeter of the 
Scandinavians, who is the same as the 
Saturn of the Greeks. Sunday and 
Monday are named after the sun and 
moon, both of which luminaries were 
worshiped as gods. Tuesday takes its 
name from Tisa, the wife of Thor. 
Some people think it is wrong to retain 
these names, on account of their Pagan 
origin, and instead of calling them by 
the old names, they say First day, 
Second day, and so on. 


“ If a bee stings you, will you go to 
the hive and destroy it? Would not a 
thousand come upon you ? If you re- 
ceive a trifling injury, do not go about 
proclaiming it, and be anxious to avenge 
it. Let it drop. It is wisdom to say 
little respecting the injuries you may 
have received.” 


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289 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


SIX "WEEKS IN THE COUNTRY. 

f ou don’t know what a narrow 
escape you have had, friend 
reader — indeed you don’t.- But 
you shall know. You can af- 
ford to tremble a little, now that the 
danger is all over. The truth is, we 
have been rambling, as usual, during 
the summer, and we came very near 
inflicting upon you half a score, or 
thereabouts, of articles on the “ lights 
and shadows of traveling.” We con- 
cluded, however, on the whole, partly 
because we have so many other matters 
on hand, to do no such thing, and so 
you have escaped. But we must tell 
you about one of our principal excur- 
sions, nevertheless. 

We received, during the summer, an 
invitation from the Linnsean Lyceum, 
connected with Lafayette College, to 
deliver to the students a course of 
lectures on botany and vegetable phys- 
iology. - The invitation was quite un- 
expected ; but, as our readers know, 
the subject is a favorite one with us, 
and in a very short time we were on 
the way to this institution. Lafayette 
College is situated in Easton, Pennsyl- 
vania. The place is so named on ac- 
count of its location on the Delaware, 
which forms a considerable portion of 
the boundary between the States of 
New Jersey and Pennsylvania. The 
college is on an eminence overlooking 
thn pretty borough of Easton, and 
commanding a charming view of many 
miles in extent. The hill on which 
the college stands is very high and 
abrupt. It is reached directly by one 
hundred and twenty -five steps, and 


indirectly by a winding carriage road. 
After the hill is ascended, the scenery 
abundantly repays the visitor for his 
toil in ascending. The Delaware, here, 
during the summer season, shallow and 
noisy, winds gracefully and wildly be- 
tween the hills ; the Lehigh and Bush- 
kill, both tributaries, and more winding 
still, are in full view, and the village 
of Easton, as if it were on a map at 
our feet, is spread out on the plain 
below, and presents an appearance 
exceedingly picturesque, nestling as it 
does at the base of overlooking hills 
on every sid£. 

But, high as this college is situated, 
there are eminences above it ; and two 
hills on opposite sides of Easton, com- 
mand a view of the Delaware Water 
Gap, the Wind Gap, and the Blue 
Ridge, for many miles in extent. If 
the literary standing of this college is 
half so high as its buildings are raised 
above the common level, it is certainly 
a very thorough institution ; and, in- 
deed, whatever may be its character 
in general, as compared with other 
colleges, it has the reputation of supe- 
rior thoroughness in some branches, 
especially in mathematics. The view 
from College Hill is in some respects 
the most cheering we have ever seen ; 
there is such a constant succession of 
hills as far as the eye can reach, and 
then there is such an inimitable fore- 
ground ! The three streams, vieing 
with each other in the wildness of 
their flow, present a picture on which 
the eye rests for hours with delight. 

The recollection of our visit to 
Easton will ever call up many pleas- 


290 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


ing associations. And we shall long 
• remember Easton, too, for the kindness 
alike of the professors and students 
connected with the college, and the 
citizens. They have placed us under 
many obligations, by their uniform 
courtesy and politeness. 

Of the Delaware Water Gap, and 
other objects of interest in the vicinity 
of Easton, we intend to say a word or 
two at another time. 


What an odd jumbling of represent- 
atives from different nations of the 
earth we frequently witness in travel- 
ing. The other day we encountered, 
in a stage-coach, a Yankee, from 
“ away down east,” two genuine emi- 
grants from Germany, a couple of 
Irishmen, sundry Pennsylvanians, and 
a Scandinavian from the coast of Nor- 
way. This latter gentleman interested 
us very much. He had traveled over 
a great portion of Europe and the 
United States, and was, withal, a very 
good scholar and quite an observing 
man. We did not learn his name, and 
we know not whom to thank for our 
entertainment ; but it is seldom that 
we have met a man who contributed 
so much to render a fatiguing ride 
agreeable. He spoke some six lan- 
guages, and conversed tolerably well 
in English. Did you know, reader, 
that the Anglo-Saxons are indebted to 
his country for a great many of the 
materials with which our language is 
constructed ? It is the truth. The 
Britons were conquered by emigrants 
from that country, and the language 
which our ancestors spoke, after this 
emigration, and before the Norman 


conquest, was in a great measure 
moulded by these strangers. This 
■ gentleman pointed out great similarities 
between our language and his own. 


By the way, what is to be the e*id 
of this reaching after power and pos- 
session, so characteristic of the Anglo- 
Saxon race ? We have a wonderful 
regard for other races of men. How 
we burn to do them good ! We are 
so anxious, sometimes, that we hew 
half of the people to pieces with the 
sword, in order to bring the other half 
under the kind influence of our insti- 
tutions. We must copy a fable that 
bears a little on this point, from Mrs. 
Kirkland’s excellent Union Magazine 
of Literature and Art: 

THE HERONS AND THE HERRING S- 

BY FRANCIS O. WOODWORTH. 

A Heron came down from his home in the sky, 

To the court of his cousins the fishes, 

With despatches so heavy he scarcely could fly, 

And his bosom brimful of good wishes. 

That he was unfriendly to Herrings, he said, 

He hoped there would be no suspicion ; 

His government wished to convert them instead, 

And -this was the end of his mission. 

The Herrings replied, and were civil enough, 

Though a little inclined to be witty : — 

“ We know we are heathenish, savage, and rough. 

And are greatly obliged for your pity. 

“ But your plan of conversion we beg to decline, 

With all due respect for your nation ; 

No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine, 

Yet we fear it would check respiration.” 

The Heron returned to his peers in disdain, 

And told how their love was requited. [main 

“ Poor creatures !” they said ; “ shall we let th8m re- 
So ignorant, blind, and benighted ?” 

Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will 
The Herons in council decided ; 

And they flew, every one that, could boast a long bill. 
To the beach where the Herrings resided. 

So the tribe were soon converts from ocean to air. 
Though liking not much the diversion, 

And wishing at least they had time to prepare 
P or so novel a mode of conversion. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


291 


A sensible man will discover with ease 
The point of the tale I’ve related ; 

A blockhead could not, let me say what I please, 
Then why need my moral be stated? 


The problem in our last number, 
respecting the division of an old gentle- 
man’s farm, has been correctly an- 
swered by little Ann Eliza, one of our 
subscribers, with the help, we believe, 
of her father ; and by another subscri- 
ber, who signs himself w. r. e. The 
: diagram below will show how the farm 
; may be divided among the four sons, so 
that each shall have a portion of the 
same size and shape, after the father 
has taken off one quarter. 


This is a very good exercise for our 
friends the little folks. We wish some- 
body would furnish us more of the 
same sort. 


This same Miss Ann Eliza, who, by 
the way, is a cousin of ours, informs 
us, through her father, that she saw 
a black-snake, not long ago, catch an 
indigo-bird. It seems the snake was 
several weeks about the exploit ; and it 


was the opinion of those who saw the 
bird captured, that the snake did not 
bring in the power of charming at all. 
Moreover, the little girl’s father thinks 
that snakes have no such power. Pos- 
sibly they have been misrepresented in 
this matter, though we think not. 


A LETTER FROM OHIO. 

I presume the “ Man with the Magnet” 
is so often addressed as “ Mr. Editor,” 
and so often troubled with uninteresting 
communications, that he will consider 
it no breach of propriety, and perhaps 
esteem it a favor, if I should address 
myself to the gentleman who is resting 
his arm on the globe ; for I qpnnot help 
thinking that he has something to do 
with the Cabinet. 

There is a strong bond of sympathy 
between an editor and his readers, and 
I was pained to learn that the editor had 
suffered bereavement. My imagination 
immediately fixed upon that lovely 
young lady at the back of his chair, in 
the pretty picture on the cover of the 
Cabinet, as the lost one. It is, indeed, 
true, as the editor has remarked, 

“ That to the soul who ever felt the sting 
Of sorrow — sorrow is a dreadful thing,” 

and I feel the truth of this sentiment. I, 
too, have been deeply, sorely afflicted. 

On the first day of April, while so 
many of the thoughtless world were in- 
tent upon their sports, unmindful how 
many of their fellow-beings were suffer- 
ing “ death with all the sad variety of 
pain,” I stood by the dying bed of a be- 
loved father. O, how beloved ! and yet 
I knew not that I loved as fondly, until 
I felt the last throb of life in the hand 
that had toiled for me in helpless infan- 
cy, and guided my footstep in the path 



292 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


of life. When the eye that had watched 
over me with ceaseless vigilance had 
looked upon me for the last time, and 
the lips, whose wholesome counsels had 
so long been a light to my path, could 
no more bless me, then, indeed, I felt 
how inexpressibly dear was a father. 
There he lay in the calm stillness of 
death, near the window where his Bible 
and arm-chair had held undisputed pos- 
session for many years; and as the 
morning breeze stirred the white locks 
upon his brow, he looked so peaceful, 
and his dreamless slumber appeared so 
like living sleep, that I could hardly 
separate my affections from the precious 
dust, and feel that he was indeed no 
longer there. On the same spot, where 
he had so often on the evening of the 
Sabbath gathered his little flock around 
his house to read the Word of Life, I 
looked upon him for the last time on 
earth. Then how thick came thronging 
up the memories of my ingratitude for 
all his love. Though I have no recol- 
lection of ever speaking a disrespectful 
w )rd to him in my life, the thought of 
how much I might have done to comfort 
his declining years, that I had not done 
— how many words of kindness I might 
have spoken that would have been a 
balm to his heart, overwhelmed me 
with sadness. My only consolation 
now is, the thought that he will no 
more be pained by my coldness and 
neglect, and that if there is joy in 
heaven over the repenting of one sin- 
ner, he may witness mine. J. 

Camden, (O.) June, 1847. 


The publisher directs the attention of 
delinquent subscribers to a notice on 
the cover of this number. 


ANSWER TO CHARADE No III. 


1. Lex 

2. I 

3. Cog 

4. Rap 

5. Her. 


► Lexicographer. 


ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. V 

Mr. Editor, — I find I was too late in 
sending the answer to the Enigma No. 
4. But I think I am soon enough now. 
The “ text of Scripture ” is, “ Ask, 
and ye shall receive.” Sarah is a 
common name. The head is a part 
of the body. Isaac is a person spoken 
of in Scripture. Elisha was a prophet 
of old. Ad is a Latin preposition. 
The eye is a part of the body. David 
was a distinguished man of ancient 
times. Syria is an ancient country in 
Asia Minor. Caesar was a Roman 
general. Livy was a Roman historian. 
Alains was an ancient European tribe. 
Calais is a town in France. Clark is 
an adventurous navigator. 

G. R. H. 


ENIGMA NO. VT. 

I am composed of nine letters. My 

1, 8, 7, was a righteous man ; my 2, 3, 
4, 7, denotes departure ; my 1, 4, 8, 9, 
is a large animal ; my 6, 1,2, 2, de- 
notes mirth ; my 5, 2, 7, is an article 
u£ed in fishing ; my 1, 2, 6, is a part 
of the human frame ; my 4, 6, 9, 4, 7, 

2, is to kindle ; my 2, 6, 6, is an arti- 
cle of food ; my 9, 8, 7, 2, is a short 
communication. My whole is a town 
famous for a battle fought during the 
American Revolution. 

Little Patty. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


293 


Anecdotes of the Grey Fox. 

§ hortly after the railroad from 
Charleston to Hamburgh, S. C., 
had been constructed, the rails for 
a portion of the distance having 
been laid upon timbers at a considerable 
height from the ground, supported by 
strong posts, we observed a fox, which 
was hard pressed by a pack of hounds, 
mounting the rails, upon which he ran 
several hundred yards; the dogs were 
unable to pursue him, and he thus cross- 
ed a deep cypress swamp over which the 
railroad was in this manner carried, and 
made his escape on the opposite side. 

The late Benjamin C. Yancy, an emi- 
nent lawyer, who in his youth was very 
fond of fox-hunting, relates the follow- 
ing: — A fox had been pursued, near his 
residence, in Edgefield, several times, but 
the hounds always lost the track at a 
place where there was a footpath leading 
down a steep hill. He therefore deter- 
mined to conceal himself near this de- 
clivity, the next time the fox was started, 
in order to discover his mode of baffling 
the dogs at this place. The animal was 
accordingly put up and chased, and at 
first led the hounds through many bay- 
ous and ponds in the woods, but at 
length came running over the brow of 
the hill, along the path, stopped sud- 
denly, and spread himself flat and mo- 
tionless on the ground; the hounds 
came down the hill in pursuit, at a dash- 
ing pace, and the whole pack passed, 
and did not stop till they were at the 
bottom of the hill. As soon as the im- 
mediate danger was over, the fox, casting 
a furtive glance around him, started up, 
and ran off at his greatest speed, on his 
“ back track.” — Audubon. 


The Lion’s Leap. 

/jfk nce as I was travelling in Nema- 
JaM qua land, I observed a spot which 
\jj W was imprinted with at least twen- 
ty tracks of the lion’s paw; and 
as I pointed them out, a Nemaqua chief 
told me that a lion had been practicing 
his leap. On demanding an explanation, 
he said, that if a lion sprang at an animal, 
and missed it by leaping short, he would 
always go back to where he sprang 
from, and practice the leap, so as to be 
successful on another occasion ; and he 
then went on to relate to me the follow- 
ing anecdote, stating that he was an 
eye-witness to the incident. I will give 
it as nearly as possible in the words of 
the chief himself. 

“ I was passing near the end of a 
craggy hill, from ten to twelve feet high, 
when I perceived a number of zebras 
galloping round it, which they were 
obliged to do, as the rock was quite 
steep ; a lion was creeping towards the 
rock, to catch the male zebra which 
brought up the rear of the herd. The 
lion sprang, and missed his mark ; he fell 
short, with only his head over the edge 
of the rock, and the zebra galloped 
away, switching his tail in the air. Al- 
though the object of his pursuit was 
gone, the lion tried the leap on the rock 
the second and third time, till he suc- 
ceeded. During this time, two more 
lions came up, and joined the first lion. 
He then made another grand leap, to 
show what he and they must do, another 
time. They were evidently talking to 
each other, although I thought it was 
as well to be off, or they might have 
some talk about me.” — Capt. Marryatt’s 
Scenes in Africa. 


294 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET, 


Come, Sisters, Come. 

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2. Plume, plume your wings, ye songsters of the mountains; 

Lo ! from her homo of violets and roses, 

Forth comes our queen — now warble loud, ye fountains, 

Homage to her, the fairy queen of posies. * 

Loud swell each voice in strains of joy and gladness ; 

Banish the frown, the tear, the look of sadness. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


295 


The Humming-Bird. 



1 ctober has again 
come round. Gol- 
den fruits hang on 
the orchard trees. 
The leaves of the 
forest begin to 
show signs of au- 
tumn. How rich 
is the drapery of 
the woods at this season 
of the year! Can any 
thing be more charming 
ahan an autumnal land- 
scape ? But this is a sad 
season, on many accounts. 
The pretty warblers of 
summer have ceased to sing. The 
beautiful flowers have withered, and 
the wind sighs through the boughs of 
the pine and the hemlock, as if it were 
singing a dirge for summer. Such 
were our thoughts a day or two since, 
while rambling in the country. But 
just then a beautiful humming-bird, 
still lingering in this northern clime, 
flitted along, and in an instant the dear 
little creature made us feel as cheerful 
as ever. Sweet pilgrim from fairy 
land, how we thank thee for thy 
blessed mission. The humming-bird 
is among *the most interesting of the 
feathered race, on account of the va- 
riety and richness of his plumage. 
No picture can give an accurate idea 
of this little bird, and. yet we have 
ventured to present an engraving of 
one on the opposite page, as he ap- 
peared flitting from flower to flower, 
when we saw him. Our readers can- 
not see in this picture the shining 
greeli, the changeable purple, and the 
Vol. II. 10 


glossy red, that adorn the living bird. 
These beauties cannot be represented 
by the engraver. 

How much these fairy creatures add 
to the beauty and interest , of a resi- 
dence in the country. We have seen 
one, many a time, poised in the air, 
with his long bill for a moment in the 
corolla of some flower, and then, in 
an instant, almost, flitting away with 
astonishing rapidity, to extract the 
sweets from another flower. Once we 
saw one fly through the window of a 
house into the room where we were 
sitting. He was terribly frightened, 
though. He evidently had mistaken 
his way, and was glad when he found 
himself again in the garden among his 
favorite roses and morning-glories. 

Somewhere in the course of our 
reading, we once found a story about a 
family of humming-birds which a man 
captured when they were quite young, 
and which became remarkably tame. 
There were two of them in the nest, 
when it was discovered. Humming- 
birds never lay but two eggs at a time, 
we believe. The nest was found in a 
shed near the house. The young birds 
were placed in a cage at the chamber 
window, and the father and mother 
used to come and bring food for the 
little ones every hour in the day. By 
and by the little birds got so tame that 
they would alight on the gentleman’s 
hand, when he let them out of the cage 
and called them. In this manner they 
lived with their master six months. 
But one night the rats found their way 
into the cage, and they soon made arc 
end of the pretty humming-birds. 




THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


297 


Witchcraft at Home and Abroad.* 

NUMBER II. 


f E were saying, as we cut off 
our yam about witchcraft in 
a former number, that this 
superstition had taken very 
general possession of the people of Scot- 
land as early as the reign of Mary. At 
that time, an act was passed by the 
Scottish parliament for the suppression 
and punishment of witchcraft. Great 
numbers of people, male and female, 
were condemned and executed in this 
country, for having intercourse with 
the devil, during the reign of Mary. 

James VI. succeeded Mary. He 
was never happier than when he was 
persecuting people for some religious 
heresy or other. In his way, he was 
a very pious man; and seems to have 
regarded himself as divinely commis- 
sioned to be a reformer. He was a 
man of some education, for the times ; 
but he imagined himself possessed of 
.nearly all the wisdom at that time in 
the world. He was a second Solomon, 
in his own estimation. With all his 
learning, he was a superstitious man, 
and extremely intolerant. So he very 
naturally took up the cudgel against 
the poor witches, without mercy. He 
used to superintend their examination 
in person, and seemed to take very 
great delight in seeing them tortured. 
Before the close of James’ reign, a 
great many trials and executions, for 
the sin of witchcraft, had taken place 
in Scotland. For a long period, the 
judges were principally occupied, in 

•Continued from page 286. 


every part of the kingdom, with these 
witch trials. 

But, by and by, men of sense in 
Scotland began to open their eyes. 
Advocates were found who dared to 
plead for those accused of witchcraft. 
One cause of this change in public 
opinion, was the removal of James to 
England, on the death of Elizabeth. 
The mania for a while became almost 
extinct. But it broke out again in the 
reign of Charles I. Hundreds of peo- 
ple were then tried and executed for 
the witch heresy in Scotland. The 
mania continued to rage after the 
death of the first Charles, until the 
restoration, and during a considerable 
part of the reign of Charles II. In 
the first year after the accession of the 
latter prince to the throne, the Justi- 
ciary Court condemned twenty persons 
for witchcraft. But this court had, 
comparatively, very little of the busi- 
ness to do. Numerous commissions 
were given to other courts ; and victim 
after victim was led to the stake, un- 
named and unheard of. 

This superstition, however, began to 
wear away at last. As late as 1662, 
there was very little heard about witch- 
craft in that country. But it is painful 
to reflect upon the history of the trials 
and executions which took place there, 
in a period less than a century. It is 
difficult to compute the number of the 
victims of witchcraft in Scotland, on 
account of the fact that a great many 
of the trials, being conducted in ob- 
scure parts of the country, were not 


298 


THE YOUTH'S CABINET. 


recorded. But the black list, accord- 
ins: to those who have had the best 
means of judging, and whose state- 
ments can be relied on, must have 
been upward of four thousand persons ! 
The judges and executioners of these 
ill-fated victims, were among the wisest 
and best men of the times, too. They 
comprised ministers of religion, legis- 
lators, nobles, princes, kings. 

But we are showing too much par- 
tiality for the land of Bruce and Wal- 
lace, of Scott and Chalmers. We 
must not forget our fatherland. It 
seems that the annals of witchcraft 
have something to do with England — 
old England — a country that lies a 
long way off from Plymouth rock, 
and which was not included in Charles’ 
famous grant. 

It appears that witchcraft was first 
honored by Parliament in the year 
1541. This was in the reign of the 
notorious Henry VIII. Two acts were 
passed against conjuration, witchcraft, 
false prophecies, and pulling down of 
crosses. In 1562, however, in the reign 
of Elizabeth, there was a statute framed 
expressly for the crime of witchcraft. 

But it was not until James, the Scot- 
tish Solomon, ascended the throne of 
England, at the death of Elizabeth, 
that the executions for this imaginary 
crime became frequent. James was a 
very industrious monarch. He went 
to work with all his might to tinker 
religion, as soon as he found himself 
“King of Great Britain, France, and 
Ireland, and Defender of the Faith.” 
He thought it was a great pity that so 
much wisdom as he possessed should 
be shut up in a little dark chamber. 
So he began at once to enlighten his 


new subjects about matters and things 
in general, and witchcraft in particu 
lar. In the very first year of his reign 
an act was passed, which was the occa- 
sion of an immense amount of mischief. 
One of the sections of this act was in 
these words: “Anyone that shall use, 
practice, or exercise any invocation of 
any evil or wicked spirit, or consult or 
covenant with, entertain or employ, feed 
or reward, any evil or wicked spirit, 
to or for any purpose, such offenders, 
duly and lawfully convicted and at- 
tainted, shall suffer death.” 

This is pretty plain language, to say 
the least. It is scarcely necessary to 
say, that in a very few years after this 
act was passed, the whole kingdom was 
one vast volcano of excitement about 
witchcraft. The frenzy reached every 
corner of the realm. In 1612, twelve 
persons were condemned at once, at 
Lancaster; and in the next year the 
wholesale manner in which the poor 
victims of superstition suffered, was still 
more remarkable. In 1634, seventeen 
perished in Lancaster ; in 1644, six- 
teen at Yarmouth; in 1645, fifteen at 
Chelmsford; in 1646, sixty at Suffolk, 
and nearly an equal number at Hunt- 
ingdon. 

Here we must break off our story 
again. But we will endeavor to bring 
it to a close in the next number. How 
thankful we ought to be, dear children, 
that we live at a time when there is so 
much light in the Christian world. If 
we had been in England during the 
time of James, we should probably 
have been as superstitious as our an- 
cestors were, and have persecuted those 
suspected of witchcraft, in the same 
manner. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


299 



A Singular Fashion. 

& little while ago, my young 
friend George came to me to 
inquire the meaning of a pas- 
sage of Scripture which he had 
been reading. David, you know, says in 
the ninety-second Psalm, “ Mine horn 
shalt thou exalt like the horn of an 
unicorn.” George could not see what 
this meant, and he wanted me to tell 
him. He knew the language was figu- 
rative ; but he could not see the force 
of the figure. Well, I told him of a 
custom which prevailed at that lime, 
in Palestine, on which the figure was 
founded; and he seemed so delighted 
with the information, that I immedi- 
ately determined I would tell the read- 
ers of the. Cabinet about it, thinking 
that if they were not aware of the 
custom, they would perhaps be as 
much delighted as George was, when 
I told him of it. 

A great many years ago, in Pales- 
tine and some other Eastern nations, it 
was customary to wear appendages on 
the head resembling horns. You see 
a picture above, which we have had 
engraved, to show how these horns 
looked as they were worn on the head. 


Sometimes they were very short, some- 
times longer. A man of great wealth 
and power wore his horn very high, 
while poor people, and those in humble 
life, had a much shorter horn. You 
smile at such a fashion, children. It 
was odd enough. I wonder how it ever 
came into use. But after all, was it 
much more laughable than many of 
the fashions we have now-a-days ? 
These horns were regarded as em- 
blems of power, strength, and great- 
ness. So that, in the Hebrew' poetry — 
which, by the way, embraces some of 
the finest specimens to be found in any 
language — this appendage is not unfre- 
quently alluded to in this connection. 
The Psalmist makes such an allusion, 
when he speaks in the ninety-second 
Psalm, which George was reading. He 
expresses his confidence that God would 
make his horn very high, or make him 
great and prosperous. It is. a forcible 
figure, when we understand it. 

The same figure is employed, when 
Job says, “ I have defiled my horn in 
the dust.” He means that' his horn is 
no longer an ornament on his head; 
but that it is broken and prostrate. His 
influence, power, prosperity, are all 
gone. 

Modern travelers inform us that the 
horn is still worn by the Druses, in 
Mount Lebanon. It is made sometimes 
of gold, sometimes of silver, and some- 
times of wood. There, as among the 
Hebrews centuries ago, it is still an 
emblem of power and exalted rank. 
When a man is very proud, they say 
“he carries his horn pretty high.” 
They mean the same that we do, when 
we speak of a man as carrying his 
head high . — Theodore Thinker. 


300 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

NUMBER V. 

f HEODORE. Well, my little friends, 
you seem to be very busy read- 
ing, just now. There must be 
some uncommon attractions in 
that Youth’s Cabinet, I imagine. Per- 
haps it would be as well to postpone our 
conversation on Botany till to-morrow. 

Emma. Oh, no, Mr. Thinker ; I am 
sure I would leave any thing, to hear 
more about those large old trees. I 
have been thinking that that large 
chestnut-tree of ours, near the brook, 
must be a pretty old one. Is it not, 
Mr. Thinker ? 

T. Yes ; probably it has seen some 
four or five centuries. It measures 
nearly thirty feet in circumference, I 
believe, near the ground. But there is 
a chestnut-tree on Mount iEtna, which 
is one hundred and sixty feet round. 
What do you think of that ? 

George. Why, I think the account 
appears very much like a fish story ; 
but if it is true, the tree must have 
been three times as old as our chestnut- 
tree. That would make it fifteen hun- 
dred years old, at least. 

T. No, I am not sure that you can 
depend upon the accuracy of such a 
calculation ; for the trees in very 
warm climates, where there is not 
much winter, may grow a great deal 
more in the course of a year than our 
trees do. The best way to arrive at 
the age of that large tree, I suppose, 
would be to count its rings. 

Josephine. But that could not be 
done while the tree is living. 


T. No, not exactly ; but something 
might be done which would answer the 
same purpose. Another tree growing 
in the same location might be sawed in 
two, and the circles counted. Then it 
could be easily ascertained, within a 
few years, by comparing the measures 
of the two trees, though it would have 
to be borne in mind that young trees 
grow faster than old ones. There is 
another way, too, in which the age 
may be arrived at. A deep cut may 
be made in the side of the trunk, and 
the rings counted. This is the ^vay 
in which Baron Humboldt found out the 
age of that celebrated tree in Africa. 

J. How old is that tree, Mr. 
Thinker ? 

T. Well, Humboldt made it five 
thousand five hundred and ten years 
old, at the time he measured it. If it 
is living now, it must be somewhat 
older. 

E. Why, Mr. Thinker! do you be- 
lieve that man’s story ? 

. T. I know of no reason why I 
should doubt it. 

G. Did not this tree grow to a mon- 
strous size ? 

T. The trunk was very large • but 
the height of the tree, and the extent 
of its branches, were by no means in 
proportion. 

E. Mr. Thinker, are not pine-trees 
sometimes very long lived ? I have 
seen some that grew very large. 

T. Yes; the pine occasionally at- 
tains a great age. There is a species 
somewhat remarkable for its longevity, 
called the Pine of Aleppo. It grows 
in Asia. Here is an engraving of it. 
It is rather difficult to tell exactly how 
old a large pine-tree . is, because the 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


301 


layers are not quite so distinct on the 
wood of this general class of trees. 
But we are warranted in saying that 
pines frequently live till they are six 
or seven hundred years old. There 


was a tree, not belonging to the pine 
family, however, blown down some 
twenty years ago, on the island of 
TenerifFe, which was described in the 
fifteenth century. It seems by the 



THE PINE 07 ALEPPO. 


description to have been 'nearly as 
large at the time of this description as 
it was when it was blown down. 
They called it the Great Dragon. It 
bore leaves and blossoms the last year 
of its life. 

E. What a pity it should have been 
destroyed. 

T. Yes; but it is the nature of 


every thing to perish in this world — * 
every thing but the immortal spirit. 
Some cypress-trees are found in Mex- 
ico, of an extraordinary size. A+ 
Axtello there is one which measures 
in circumference seventy-six feet ; and 
in t^e province of Oaxaca, one mea- 
suring one hundred and eighteen feet ! 
There is another very curious fact, 


302 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET - 


according to the statement of one tra- 
veler, about this tree. On examining 
it carefully, it is found to be not a 
single individual, but composed of 
three united trunks. There is another 
tree of this species, not far from the 
same place, which is said to be one 
hundred and seventeen feet ten inches 
round. Some naturalists think this 
the oldest tree on the globe. 

J. The cypress seems to be a very 
long-lived tree. 

T. Yes. Strabo mentions a cypress 
growing in Persia, as large round as 
five men could span. He believed it 
to be two thousand five hundred years 
old. The yew is one of the most 
ancient trees found in England. It is 
the opinion of De Candolle, a cele- 
brated botanist, that it attains a greater 
age than any other European tree. 
There are several now living, that, 
according to De Candolle’s method of 
computation, which seems to be a cor- 
rect one, must be at least three thou- 
sand years old. One measures twenty- 
seven feet in diameter. 

The olive-tree sometimes attains a 
very great age. There are eight olive- 
tree? in a garden at Jerusalem, which 
can be proved by historical documents 
to have existed previous to the taking 
of Jerusalem by the Turks. So that 
they must be at least eight hundred 
years old. 

J. The oak grows very large, too. 
I think I have seen some that must 
have lived a great many years. 

T. Yes ; many have flourished in 
England within the present century, 
which were at least eight hundred 
years of age. One is mentioned as 
growing near Oxford College, w r hich 


was standing when Alfred the Great 
founded that institution. Not less than 
a hundred years ago, there grew an oak 
in Dorsetshire, which was thirty-eight 
feet in circumference at its base. Its 
diameter was consequently about four 
yards. As early as Cromwell’s time, 
it was hollow, and could hold twenty 
men. During the civil wars, an old 
man lived in it and sold ale. You 
have no doubt heard of a celebrated 
oak in Hampshire, England. Sir Wal- 
ter Tyrrel shot an arrow against it, 
which glanced off and killed William 
Rufus, a son of William the Conquerer. 
This was soon after the Norman con- 
quest, in the year 1*100. This tree 
lived till about the middle of the 
eighteenth century. It was very large, 
and without doubt nine hundred years 
old. 

E. I have always thought, I scarce- 
ly know why, that the trees in England 
were larger and older than in any 
other country. 

T. Probably the reason is, that you 
have heard so much about the “ old 
oaks which abound 7 there. There 
are a great many trees, however, much 
more remarkable for their age and size 
than any which can be found in Eng- 
land. I read, the other day, in a late 
number of Blackwood’s Magazine, the 
greatest story yet, about large trees. 
This story will do to end with, I think. 
Sir George Simpson, Governor of the 
Hudson’s Bay Company, during a tour 
undertaken for discovery, a year or 
two since, visited California. He saw 
there a tree which he ascertained to 
be two hundred and fifty -two feet in 
circumference , and seventy-five feet 
high ! If this tree — provided the gov- 


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303 


ernor did not use a magnifying-glass 
in examining it — should taper regularly 
to the top, and form a perfect cone, it 
would cpntain about twenty-two thou- 
sand tons of bark and timber ! A 
tough story, that, truly. However, I 
presume it is true, tough as it is. 


My Wife’s Gold Ring: 

OB, LAVATEB AND THE POOH "WIDOW. 

M| t was a practice with Lavater to 
Ml read, every morning, several chap- 
. M ters in the Bible, and to select from 
them one particular passage for fre- 
quent and special meditation during the 
day. One morning, after reading the 
fifth and sixth chapters of the Gospel of 
St. Matthew, he exclaimed, “What a 
treasure of morality ! how difficult to 
make choice of any particular portion 
of it !” After a few moments’ considera- 
tion, he threw himself upon his knees, 
and prayed for divine guidance. When 
he joined his wife at dinner, she asked 
him what passage of Scripture he had 
chosen for the day. “ Give to him that 
asketh thee ; and from him that would 
borrow of thee, turn thou not away,” 
was the reply. “ And how is this to 
be understood ?” said his wife. “ ‘ Give 
to him that asketh thee ; and from him 
that would borrow of thee, turn thou 
not away,’ are the words of Him,” re- 
joined Lavater, “to whom all and every 
thing belongs that I possess. I am the 
steward, not the proprietor. The pro- 
prietor desires me to give to him who 
asks of me, and not to refuse him who 
would borrow of me; or in other words, 
if I have two coats, I must give one to 
him who has none, and if I have food, 


I must share with him who is in hun- 
ger and in want ; this I must do with- 
out being asked ; how much more, then, 
when asked !” 

This, continues Lavater, in his diary, 
appeared to me so evidently and incon- 
trovertibly to be the meaning of the ver- 
ses in question, that I spoke with more 
than usual warmth ; my wife made no 
further reply, than that she would take 
these things to heart. I had scarcely 
left the dining-room a few minutes, 
when an aged widow desired to speak 
to me, and she was shown into my 
study. 

“ Forgive me, dear sir,” she said ; 
“ excuse the liberty I am about to take ; 
I am truly ashamed, but my rent is due 
to-morrow, and I am short six dollars. 
I have been confined to bed with sick- 
ness, and my poor child is nearly starv- 
ing. Every penny that I could save I 
have laid aside to meet this demand ; 
but six dollars yet are wanting, and to- 
morrow is term-day.” Here she open- 
ed a parcel, which she held in her 
hand, and said, “ This is a book with a 
silver cl&sp, which my late husband 
gave me the day we Were married. It 
is all I can spare of the few articles I 
possess, and sore it is to part with it. I 
am aware that it is not enough, nor do 
I see how I could ever repay. But, 
dear sir, if you can, do assist me.” 

I am sorry, my good woman, that I 
cannot help you, I said ; and putting 
my hand in my pocket, I accidentally 
felt my purse, which contained about 
two dollars. These, I said to myself, 
cannot extricate her from her difficulty ; 
she requires six : besides, if even they 
Could, I have need of this money for 
some other purpose. Turning to the wi- 


304 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


dow, I said, “ Have you no friend or re- 
lation, who could give you this trifle ?” 

“ No, not a soul ! I am ashamed to 
go from house to house ; I would rather 
work day and night. My excuse for 
being here is, that people speak so 
much of your goodness ; if, however, 
you cannot assist me, you will at least 
forgive my intrusion ; and God, who 
has never yet forsaken me, will not 
surely turn away from me in my sixti- 
eth year ! ” 

At this moment, the door of my apart- 
met opened, and my wife entered. I 
was ashamed and vexed : gladly would 
I have sent her away; for conscience 
whispered, “ Give to him that asketh 
thee ; and from him fhat would borrow 
of thee, turn thou not away.” She 
came up to me, and said, with much 
sweetness, “ This is a good old woman ; 
she has certainly been ill of late, assist 
her if you can.” Shame and compas- 
sion struggled in my darkened soul. “ I 
have but two dollars,” I said, in a whis- 
per, “ and she requires six ; I’ll give her 
a trifle in her hand, and let her go.” 
Laying her hand on my arm, and smi- 
ling up in my face, my wife said aloud, 
what conscience had whispered before, 
“ Give to him that asketh thee ; and 
from him that would borrpw of thee, 
turn thou not away.” 

I blushed, and replied with some lit- 
tle vexation, “ Would you give your ring 
for the purpose /” . 

“ With pleasure,” answered my wife, 
pulling off* her ring. 

The good old widow was either too 
simple or too modest to notice what 
was going on, and was preparing to re- 
tire, when my wife called to her to wait 
in the lobby. When we were left alone, 


I asked my wife, “Are you in earnest 
about the ring ?” 

“ Certainly, how can you doubt it ?” 
she said ; “ do you think that I would 
trifle with charity ? Remember what 
you said to me half an hour ago oh, 
my dear friend, let us not make a show 
of the Gospel. You are in general so 
kind, so sympathizing, how is it that 
you find it so difficult to assist this poor 
woman ? why did you not, without he- 
sitation, give her what you had in your 
pocket ? and did you not know that 
there were yet six dollars in your desk, 
and that the quarter will be paid to us 
in less than eight days ?” She then 
added, with much feeling, “ Take no 
thought for your life, what ye shall 
eat, or what ye shall drink ; nor yet for 
your body, what ye shall put on. Be- 
hold the fowls of the air ; they sow 
not, neither do they reap, nor gather 
into barns ; yet your Heavenly Father 
feedeth them.” 

I kissed my wife, while tears ran 
down my cheeks. “ Thanks, a thou- 
sand thanks, for this humiliation!” I 
turned to the desk, took from it the six 
.dollars, and opened the door to call in 
the poor widow ; all darkened around 
me at the thought, that I had been so for- 
getful of the omniscience of God as to 
say to her, “I cannot help you.” • Oh, 
thou false tongue! thou false heart! If 
the Lord should mark iniquities, O Lord, 
who shall stand ! “Here is what you 
need,” I said, addressing the widow. 

At first she seemed not to understand 
what I meant, and thought I was offer- 
ing her a small contribution, for which 
she thanked me, and pressed my hand ; 
but when she perceived that I had giv- 
en her the whole sum, she could scarce- 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


305 


ly find words to express iier feelings. 
She cried, “ Dear sir, I cannot repay : 
all I possess is this poor book, and it 
is old.” “ Keep your book,” said I, 
“ and the money too, and thank God, 
and not me ; for, verily, I deserve no 
thanks, after having so long resisted 
| your entreaties., Go in peace, and for- 
j give an erring brother.” 

I returned to my wife with downcast 
j looks ; but she smiled, and said, “ Do 

i not take it so much to heart, my friend ; 
\ you yielded at my first suggestion : but 
; promise me, that so long as I wear a 
! gold ring on my finger, and you know 

ii that I possess several besides, you will 
I never allow yourself to say to any per- 
son, ‘ I cannot help you.’ ” 

She kissed me, and left the apart- 
j| ment. 

When I found myself alone, I sat 
i down and wrote this account in my 
| diary, in order to humble my deceitful 
heart — this heart which, no longer ago 
than yesterday, dictated the words, “of 
| 'all characters in the world, there is 
none I would more anxiously avoid 
than a hypocrite ;” yet to preach the 
whole moral law, and to fulfill only tfye 
easy part of it, is hypocrisy. Merciful 
Father, how long must I wait, and re- 
flect, and struggle, ere I shall be able 
to rely on *the perfect sincerity of my 
profession ! I read over once more the 
chapter which I had read in the morn- 
ing with so little benefit, and felt more 
and more ashamed, and convinced that 
there is no peace, except where princi- 
ple and practice are in perfect accord- 
ance. How peacefully and happily I 
might have ended this day, had I act- 
ed up conscientiously to the blessed 
doctrines I profess ! Dear Saviour, 


send thy Holy Spirit into this benight- 
ed heart ! cleanse it from secret sin ! 
and teach me to employ that which 
thou hast committed to my charge, to 
thy glory, a brother’s welfare and mv 
own salvation ! — Selected. 


The Dying Child’s Vision of Heaven. 

BY C. C. COX^ M. D. 

Oh, what is it mother ? Oh, what is it, say, 

That is shining so brightly above me away ? 

I see little forms, like my own, floating by, 

On their star-covered wings, in that golden sky 

And they call to me, mother, oh, do you not 
hear 1 

And their voices are strange to my listening ear ; 

They are sweqter by far than the birds of the 
grove, 

Whose wild notes of gladness I so dearly love. 

And they tell me to go with them, mothei, 
and play 

O’er fields where the beautiful butterflies stray ; 

Where streamlets are prattling more lovely 
and dear, 

Than the sweet little rill which I wander by 
here. 

They whisper, “ thy form shall ba dazzlingly 
bright 

As the glorious vision that breaks nit my sight ; 

And thy voice shall ring out with a note as gay 

As the music of birds on the orange tree’s 
spray.” 

Shall I go — shall I go 1 they are coming near. 

And they call me yet louder ; hear mother, hear! 

And now they are drawing me gently away ; 

Must I leave you, and go, sweet mother, — say ? 

Now, now they are leaving ! — Oh will you not 
come, 

And visit me oft in my sunny home ? 

I will fly to your chamber some lovely night, 

And show you, dear mother, that vision of light ! 

Easton. Md, Sept, 1847, 


306 


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Nicolo Poussin, the Painter. 




8 [^icolo Poussin was a very dis- 
jf tinguished painter. We have 
1 taken pains to have a fine por- 
" trait of him engraved. He is 
deservedly held in very high estimation 
by all lovers of painting. His style is 
generally exceedingly correct, though 
deficient in the beauty of its coloring. 
Nicolo was born in Normandy, in the 
year 1594. He was first placed under 
an artist named Ferdinand Elle ; but 
finding that little was to be learned 
from him, in accordance with his own 
refined and elevated ideas, he studied 
for a month under L’Allemant ; but 
here again he found but little sympa- 
thy, and he determined to take as 
models the works of the acknowledged 
masters, and complete his style from 
them. By these means he made con- 
siderable progress, and was conse- 
quently encouraged by offers of em- 
ployment. Rome, however, seems to 
have been the school in which he 


wished to perfect himself, and he ac- 
cordingly hastened to finish some pic- 
tures on which he was engaged, and 
started immediately for Italy. 

On his arrival at the capital, his 
energy, patience, and perseverance 
were called into action \ and had he 
been found wanting in these valuable 
qualities, no success would ever have 
been his. His great friend, Cavaliere 
Marino, on whom he had placed his 
almost only hope for introduction and 
assistance, was no more ; and hence 
he had to struggle against* all the dif- 
ficulties which beset the beginner’s 
path, and work with redoubled industry 
to achieve for himself a name. He 
devoted his attention chiefly to the stu- 
dy of antique statues and bas-reliefs — 
thinking that in them were combined 
every grace and beauty which adorns 
the human form divine. 

Having, after some time, succeeded 
in earning both money and fame, he 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


307 


visited Paris, whither he had been in- 
vited by Louis XIII. His stay, how- 
ever, was not of very long duration, 
and he again returned to his favorite 
Rome, to paint for the Prince Justiniani 
a historical picture representing He- 
rod’s cruelty, in which the expression 
depicted in every figure is such as to 
excite pity and terror in every behold- 
; er. Many other works of a very supe- 
rior character followed from his easel, 
including that of Germanicus dying, 
ij considered one of his best productions ; 

I as also the altar piece representing the 
| Last Supper, at St. Germain’s. 

From this time — the zenith of his 
\ fame — he continued to produce pictures 
in the most beautiful style, two of 
which we may mention from the mark- 
ed beauty and grace which distinguish 
J them — “The Annunciation,” and “The 
i Flight into Egypt,” both of which are 
to be seen in the gallery of the Prince 
I Della Torre, at Naples. There are not 
I less than eight productions of this ta- 
lented master in the British National 
j Gallery, all of which claim the admi- 
I ration of both old and young admirers 
of the arts. Nicolo Poussin died in the 
year 1665, aged seventy-one . — London 
Juvenile Library. 


Remarkable Reanimation.. 

octor Chirchtos, physician to 
the Emperor of Russia, tells of 
a young girl in the service of the 

Prince of , who had for 

some time kept her bed with a nervous 
affection, and at length, to all appear- 
ance, was deprived of life. Her face 


had all the characters of death ; her 
body was perfectly cold; and every 
other symptom of death was manifest- 
ed. She was removed into another 
room, and placed in a coffin. On the 
day fixed for her funeral, hymns, ac- 
cording to the custom of the country, 
were sung before the door ; but at ths 
very moment they were going to nail 
down the coffin, a perspiration was 
seen upon her skin, and in a few min- 
utes it was succeeded by a convulsive 
motion of the hands and feet. She 
opened her eyes, and uttered a piercing 
scream. The faculty were instantly 
in, and in a few days her health was 
re-established. The account which 
she gave of her situation was extreme- 
ly curious. She said she appeared to 
dream that she was dead, but she was 
sensible to every thing that was passing 
around her, and distinctly heard her 
friends bewail her death ; she felt them 
envelope her in the shroud, and place 
her in her' coffin. The sensation gave 
her extreme agony, and she attempted 
to speak, but her soul was unable to act 
upon her body. She describes her 
sensations as very contradictory, as if 
she was and was not in her body, at 
the same instant. She attempted in 
vain to move her arms, open her eyes, 
and to speak. The agony was at its 
height, when she heard the funeral 
hymn, and found that they were about 
to nail down the coffin. The horror of 
being buried alive gave a new impulse 
to her mind, which resumed its power 
over its corporeal organization, and 
produced the effects which excited the 
notice of those who were about to con- 
vey her to a premature grave. — Euro- 
pean paper. 



308. 


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Eastern Mode of Writing. 


M ere is a man writing. The 
readers of the Cabinet will won- 
der how he can manage to write 
in this fashion. But he seems to 
succeed pretty well. He is an Egyptian, 
and if we are not much mistaken, he 
is secretary to some man high in autho- 
rity in Cairo. Did you know, reader, 
that the Egyptians write across the 
paper, in an opposite direction from 
our mode ? They do so, and so do 
several other nations in the East. The 
Arabs proceed from right to left. This 
is the way the Jews wrote. Our He- 
brew Bibles are all printed in this 
manner. The man in the engraving 
is writing with the paper in the palm 
of his left hand. That is odd, is it 
not? The people in the East do not 
. change much in their modes of living, 
from year to year. A great many of 
their customs are almost the same as 
they were two thousand years ago ; and 
many allusions in the Bible to ancient 
customs, seem much more beautiful 
when we become acquainted with the 
present customs of Eastern nations. 


“ 4 You’re a good book-keeper,’ as 
the librarian said to the man who 
wouldn’t return a hired book.” 


The Emperor and the Judge. 

I /T¥| any merchants in Russia la- 
M mented bitterly, in my hear- 
fU ing, the iniquitous corruption 
*^of the courts of law ; and told 
me that no cause can ever be brought 1 
to a successful termination without a 
decent and proper administration of j 
bribes. But Justice even in Russia 
sometimes finds out the wicked, as is 
instanced by the following story, often 
told at St. Petersburgh : A poor wo- 
man having an affair of much import- 
ance under litigation in one of the 
courts, was given to understand that 
the cause would never be brought to a 
satisfactory termination without a pre- 
sent to a senator of twenty thousand 
roubles. Horror-struck at this, and 
seeing no chance of procuring the im- 
mense jsum, and thus terminating the 
expensive lawsuit, she one day ad- 
dressed the emperor in the street, and 
begged him to lend her twenty thou- 
sand roubles. His majesty questioned 
her as to what she could want with so . 
large a sum, and having heard her' 
story, gave her the money, privately * 
marked by himself. The poor woman . 
immediately made , the corrupt judge 
the required present. The emperor 
shortly after met the senator, and beg- 
ged of him to lend him some money ; 
the wretched man, without any hesita- 
tion, put some of the spoil of the poor 
woman into his majesty’s hand. He 
recognized his own money! The se- 
nator is said to haye disappeared. — 
Bourke’s Russia . 


“ A thousand probabilities do not 
make one truth.” 


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309 



A Daughter’s Love. 


S tiring the sanguinary period of 
the French revolution, when 
crimes and horrors were con- 
tinually perpetrated, the sacred 
affections of kindred and of friendship 
were often powerfully excited. 

One such instance occurred amid 
the terrific massacres of an age un- 
paralleled in atrocity; when crowds 
of unfortunate persons were condemned 
unheard, and loaded cannon were di- 
rected to play upon them. Yet not 
only in France and its dependencies — 
among the instances of unflinching 
heroism and filial love, which La Yen- 
dee continually exhibited — but in the 
far-off West, in one of those unfortu- 
nate islands where the massacres of 
the Reign of Terror were acted on a 
less extended theatre. 

An honest Creole, whose only crime 
consisted in possessing the inheritance 
of his ancestors, was denounced as ini- 
mical to the Republic, and sentenced 
to die with a crowd of his fellow- 
countrymen. But, happily for this vir- 


tuous colonist, he was the father of a 
little girl, eminently endowed with 
courage, energy, and affection ; and, 
when the moment of separation from 
his family arrived, this courageous 
child resolved to follow and share his 
sufferings, however terrible to her ten- 
der age. In vain did the father en- 
treat his little Annette to remain at 
home, and the mother, with streaming 
eyes, seek to retain her child by force. 
Entreaties and commands were equally 
unavailing, and, rushing from the door, 
she continued to follow at a little dis- 
tance the rough men who urged her 
unhappy father to the place of execu- 
tion. Small time sufficed to place him 
in the foremost rank of the condemned ; 
his eyes were blinded, and his hands 
tied together, while the executioners 
made ready those murderous engines, 
which were soon to open a heavy fire 
of grape shot upon the crowds who 
awaited their death in silence. 

But suddenly a little girl sprang for- 
ward, and her voice, tremulous with 


310 


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emotion, uttered the piercing cry of — 
“ Oh, my father ! my father !” The 
lookers on endeavored to snatch hef 
from destruction, and those who were 
alike condemned to death, menaced the 
poor child, in order to drive her from 
among them. Annette bounded with 
light step toward her father, as she 
had been wont to do in happier days, 
when awaiting his welcome voice, and 
throwing her little arms round his neck, 
she waitecTto perish with the author of 
her days. 

1 ' Oh, my child, my dearest child, 
the cherished and only hope of thy 
wretched mother, now on the eve of 
widowhood !” exclaimed her trembling 
and weeping father, “ I command, I 
conjure thee to go away.” 

“ No, papa, we will die together.” 

This unexpected incident disconcert- 
ed the director of the massacre. Per- 
haps he was himself a father, and the 
thought of his own children might arise 
within him. Certain it is, that his fe- 
rocious heart was softened ; he ordered 
the Creole away, and commanded that 
he should be taken to prison, with his 
child. Amid the rage of civil discord, 
and the alternate ascendency of con- 
tending factions, a brief respite was not 
unfrequently productive of the happiest 
consequences. Such was the case, in 
the present instance. The face of af- 
fairs became changed ; the father was 
restored to his family, and ceased not 
to speak with the tenderest emotion of 
his little daughter, then only ten years 
of age. 

Many who heard the tale, in after 
years, pleased themselves with think- 
ing, that the human heart is never 
completely insensible to the voice of 


nature. But the contrary has been 
unhappily evinced in those fearful tra- 
gedies which have so often disgraced 
its history ; in which the tears of suf- 
fering innocence have vainly sought 
for sympathy and compassion. . We 
cannot, therefore, attribute so wonder- 
ful a deliverance to those innate princi- 
ples of virtue and benevolence, which 
are thought by some, incapable of be- 
ing totally eradicated in the breast of 
even the most atrocious and sangui- 
nary. We must rather give to Him 
the glory, in whose hands are the 
hearts of men ; and who, in preserving 
the life of a virtuous individual, has 
exhibited to all young people, a beau- 
tiful and impressive instance of the 
reward of filial piety. — Selected .. 


Singular Mode of Counting Time. 

E nicicerbocker, in his History of 
New York, playfully tells us 
that the old-fashioned way of 
computing time with the Dutch 
settlers of New Amsterdam, was by 
pipes. It took them, he says, always 
about the same time to smoke a pipe, 
and so they got in the habit of call- 
ing this operation a definite measure 
of time. They talked about a place 
as so many pipes distant — a sermon 
as so many pipes in length, and so 
forth. This is mere fun, of course ; 
but Sir George Simpson, the governor 
of the Hudson’s Bay Company, in the 
course of a recent tour of discovery, it 
seems, found a tribe of Indians in Sibe- 
ria, who did really compute time by the 
boiling of a kettle. What do you think 
of a kettle for a clock, children ? 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


311 


The Canadian at the Forge. 

BT THEODORE THINKER. 

HUI ome three years ago, while travel- 
ing in Lower Canada, I stopped 
awhile to view the charming 
**** scenery around the Falls of Mont- 
morenci, near Quebec. On the road 
from the city to the falls, is a steep 
hill. As I was descending it in one of 
those indescribable vehicles, called a 


caleche in Quebec, the driver enter- 
tained me with a story, which, if true, 
possesses a moral that we hope will not 
be lost upon our young readers. In- 
deed, the story has a moral, whether 
true or not, and no one who reads it 
ought to lose sight of that moral. The 
tale is something like this : 

Many years ago, where now is seen 
that neat French cottage, stood a black- 
smith’s forge. These forges in Canada 
had then, and many of them have now, 



THE BLACKSMITH AT THE FORCE. 


an apartment adjoining them, where 
are kept for sale different varieties of 
intoxicating liquors. A farmer, resid- 
ing several miles from the forge, visited 
it one day in winter, and asked the 
blacksmith to shoe his horse. While 
the blacksmith was engaged in this 
task, the farmer went to the window 
where the liquors were sold, and called 
for a glass of whiskey. It was brought 
to him, and he drank it. Shortly after, 
he called for another glass. At this 
time, a man who was standing near, 
remonstrated with the farmer, and 
10 * 


begged him not to drink any more, 
intimating that he was afraid he would 
become intoxicated, and probably per- 
ceiving .some signs of intoxication at 
the time. The farmer was angry, and 
told the man, who was trying to dis- 
suade him from drinking, that he would 
do well to mind his own business, and 
that he could take care of himself. 

“John,” said the other, familiarly 
and tenderly, for the two were friends, 
“ John, you have a wife and child. I 
should not have spoken so freely, if it 
had not been for them. I see I have 


312 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


displeased you, however, and I will 
bid you good evening. But, remem- 
ber Susan and the little one, John. 
Remember them before you drink 
again.” 

And the faithful man rode away. 
John did remember Susan, and the 
little one at home, and he paused long 
before he tasted the draught that had 
been poured out for him. That was a 
terribly solemn moment. On the one 
hand, there came up in his mind im- 
ages of his happy home — for he was 
devotedly attached to his family — and 
he was almost persuaded to set down 
the glass, and to leave the contents 
untasted. But then he reflected, on 
the other hand, that it would be play- 
ing the part of a coward to yield the 
glass after he had ordered it. Take 
care, John. Let thy better judgment 
prevail. Beware of yielding to the 
tempter. He concluded he would 
drink this time, and be wiser after- 
ward. Poor John ! He drank — the 
horse was soon shod — the farmer 
mounted, and turned homeward. The 
dusk of evening began to gather, as he 
left the smith’s forge ; and the poor 
man had many miles to go, before he 
reached his family, and it was very 
cold. Alas ! hour after hour passed, 
and the fond wife watched in vain for 
her husband. Day dawned, and a 
party of friends proceeded toward the 
forge, anxiously searching for the poor 
farmer. They found him. Stretched 
on the cold snow, they found him, with 
his faithful horse at his side. He had 
fallen, in a state of intoxication, and 
there, at the foot of that hill, near the 
little white-washed cottage, he was 
frozen to death ! 


The Jewish Maiden. 

Beneath Judea’s palm-trees 
A lovely maiden bowed ; 

Nor heeded aught was passing, 

Among the busy crowd. 

The maiden’s eye shone brightly— 
Her fair arm raised on high, 

As if invoking Heaven 
To hear her earnest cry. 

God of my fathers ! hear me ; 

Oh ! bend a listening ear ; 

List to my tale of sorrow, 

And mark the silent tear. 

Jerusalem, our city, 

Is from thy people torn ; 

Her glory is departed, 

And we are left to mourn. 

The lily of the valley, 

Which onse we called our own— 

Our blooming Rose of Sharon, 

By infidels is worn. 

In every land we’re taunted — 

No rest beneath the sun ; 

God of my fathers ! hear me : 

Oh ! when will Shiloh come ? 

“Peace, peace, thou gentle mourner, 5 ’ 
An aged stranger cried ; 

“ Thine own Messiah reigneth — 

For thee he bled and died. 

“ The blood of goats and bullocks, 
Cannot avail thee now ; 

For at the name of Jesus, 

Each stubborn knee shall bow. 

“ Then haste to pay him homage, 
Before he rise and swear, 

That in the heavenly city, 

Thy soul shall have no share.” 

The maiden bowed in meekness— 
Her heart recieved the word ; 

She turned and sought her dwelling; 
Believing in the Lord. 

D. A. J. 

New York, August, 1847. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


313 


Children's Sports. 

BY WILLIAM A. ALCOTT, M. D. 

f HE sports of the young should, 
if possible, be such as are not 
only pleasant but profitable. 
Children love sport and fun most 
dearly ; and they ought to be indulged 
in both. But then there is a choice to 
be exercised in regard to the former, 
and a limit to be observed in regard to 
the latter. 

I have said that the sports of the 
young should be profitable. By this I 
do not mean, however, that they should 
be profitable in a pecuniary way. 
There are other things which are 
profitable to people besides money. 
Health is profitable — knowledge is pro- 
fitable — goodness, or, as the Apostle 
Paul calls it, godliness, is profitable. 

Now, all the sports of the young 
should be so arranged, and ordered, as 
to be profitable in one or another of 
these particulars. It would indeed be 
well if they were, at the same time, 
healthful, instructive, and of a good 
moral tendency. But one of these, at 
the least, they ought certainly to be. 

I knew a man who was a great 
wrestler for thirty years. His friends 
used to remonstrate with him, and tell 
him he would hurt his health ; but he 
did not believe it. Besides, it was 
very dear sport to him, and he could 
not bear the thought of leaving it off. 
Sometimes, indeed, for their sake, he 
would promise to leave it off at a fu- 
ture time — say, when he came to be 
forty years of age. But he did not 
leave it off when he was forty. He 
continued the habit of wresting, till he 


had not only broken many bones for 
other people, but also greatly injured 
himself. He strained one of his hips, 
so that rheumatism afterward got hold 
of it, and caused him great lameness 
and suffering all the remainder of his 
life. Then, again, in one instance, he 
fell so hard as to injure his neck ; and 
I remember to have heard him say, 
just before he died, that he never got 
over it. From the age of fifty to 
seventy years (for he had a strong 
constitution that might have lasted one 
hundred years as well as seventy) he 
suffered more pain than any ten thou- 
sand men ever need to suffer in their 
whole lives. For eight or ten years 
he could not walk, except to hobble a 
little by means of a staff ; and, for a 
year or so, at the close of his life, he 
could not walk across his room in 
any way whatever. 

You will not, of course, be likely to 
believe that this man’s sport, though he 
loved it so dearly, was very profitable 
to him. On the contrary, nothing is 
plainer than that it was very unprofit- 
able. Who, among you, would like to 
imitate him, and take his sufferings ? 

But there are other sports which 
injure health, besides wrestling. Per- 
haps, indeed, there are few in which 
we run so much risk of breaking our 
bones, or losing our lives, at once. 
And yet I could mention *a dozen or 
more, which are hurtful, in a greater 
or less degree. 

One of the sports which injure 
health, in a very considerable degree, 
is that of going into the water for 
swimming, when we are hot and fa- 
tigued. If a proper hour and place 
are selected, few sports are more 


314 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


agreeable, or more profitable, than 
swimming. But to go into a deep, 
cold pond or river, at evening, especi- 
ally Saturday evening, and remain in 
the water a good while, as too many 
young persons do, is as dangerous, 
almost so, as wrestling. I knew one 
man who was made a cripple for life 
by this practice. Another was made 
blind by it. Another suffered severely 
from rheumatism. And thousands there 
are, if I have not time to particularize, 
who suffer, more or less, from colds 
and fevers, in this way, every year. 

Playing with crackers, of which 
most boys are fond, is another- practice 
which is very unprofitable, as well as 
very dangerous. Much has been said, 
of late years, on this subject, and much 
more needs to be said or done before 
boys will be willing to desist. It is not 
long since a blind man and his wife 
were riding in South Boston, in Mas- 
sachusetts, in a carriage, when a care- 
less boy threw down, near the horse, a 
lighted cracker. The cracker explod- 
ed, the horse ran, and the lady being 
unable to guide him, they were dashed 
against a tree, and both of them consi- 
derably injured. 

Persons are sometimes even killed in 
this way. I have read, in the papers, 
several instances, within a few years, 
of death from this cause. It is high 
time for the young to learn better than 
to sport in this manner. I do not like 
the idea of having any thing to do with 
powder in the way of sport. These 
sports with powder have another evil 
tendency, which has not been so often 
alluded to as it deserves to be. They 
prepare the minds of those concerned 
in them for the horrors of war. 


One more sport of evil tendency, I 
should be glad to dwell upon a few 
moments, but I must defer it for ths 
present, as I have said enough for one 
article. 

West Newton, Mass, Sept. 1847 . 


Power of Imagination. 

n H-E influence of the imagination 
on the nervous system has, on 
Jjl some occasions, produced effects 
*** bordering on a state of insanity. 
The following, which we copy from 
an exchange paper, is a case in point : 

“A few years since, Elijah Barns, 
of Pennsylvania, killed a rattlesnake 
in his field without any injury to him- 
self, and immediately after, put on his 
son’s waistcoat, both being of one co- 
lor. He returned to his house, and, 
on his attempting to button his waist- 
coat, he . found to his astonishment that 
it was much too small. His imagi- 
nation was now wrought to a high 
pitch, and he instantly conceived the 
idea that he had been bitten impercep- 
tibly by the snake, and was thus swol- 
len from its poison. He grew sudden- 
ly very ill, and took to his bed. The 
family, in great alarm and confusion, 
summoned three physicians, and the 
usual remedies were prescribed and 
administered. The patient, however, 
grew worse every minute, until at 
length his son came home with his 
father’s waistcoat dangling about him. 
The mystery was instantly unfolded, 
and the patient, being relieved from his 
imaginary apprehensions, dismissed his 
physicians, and was restored to health.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


315 


The Bread Fruit. 

f His curious tree grows in the 
South Sea Islands. Here is a 
picture of a branch of it, and 
also a specimen of the fruit. 
The bread fruit is shaped something 
like an egg, and measures about twen- 
ty-two inches around one way, and 
about twenty-five inches the other. 
The rind is smooth, green, and marked 
with six-sided specks ; beneath lies the 
pulp that is eaten, and within a fibrous 


core containing the seeds. The trees 
arc always verdant, and bear four 
crops in the year. The fruit is a de- 
licate and wholesome substitute for 
bread, being of a sweet and pleasant 
flavor, and very nutritious. It is never 
eaten without being cooked, and the 
natives have various modes of dressing 
it. The skin being pared away, the 
pulp is most generally split, and roast- 
ed, or rather baked, in earthen ovens, 
or under hot stones ; and it is often thus 
cooked with some kind of animal food. 



It is toft and mealy, and when taken 
out, as we learn from the missionary 
voyagers, Messrs. Tyerman and Ben- 
net, greatly resembles, in color and 
taste, fine sponge biscuits. The na- 
tives frequently beat or squeeze it in 
their hands, and dip the pieces in salt 
water, when they eat it. This fruit is, 
in fact, the chief support of the people, 
who seldom make a meal without a 
large proportion of it. 


According to the travelers just men- 
tioned, to whom we are indebted for 
these particulars, there are about thirty 
varieties of this tree, which come in at 
the same time, or in close succession, 
each bringing four crops in the year ; 
yet there are more than three months 
out of the twelve when the fruit is 
either not to be obtained or very scarce. 
The natives, therefore, preserve great 
quantities of that which is ripe in pits, 


316 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


carefully lined with grass, and then 
with the leaves of a particular plant, 
which gives an agreeable flavor to the 
preserved fruit. The latter, being 
cleared of the green coating, and split, 
is thrown together i{i a heap, and co- 
vered with leaves for a time. After 
being made to go through fermentation, 
it is in the state of sour paste, and it is 
dressed in various ways ; it is, how- 
ever, in this form, difficult of digestion, 
and by no means wholesome. 


The Ruined Castle. 

® hile traveling in North Britain, 
some years ago, I visited the 
ruins of an ancient castle, said 
to have been built in the time 
of Robert Bruce, King of Scotland. It 
was situated on the banks of the River 
Clyde, on a promontory, and far above 
the swift rolling waters that lave the 
base of its foundation. It was a soli- 
tary spot. Behind its ivy colored 
walls rose gradually long ranges of 
mountains, covered with heather, then 
in blossom, giving to the scenery a 
green and beautiful appearance. Yet, 
no human habitation was near. Mo- 
dern civilization had discovered in this 
lone retreat nothing of interest, and it 
was left free and undisturbed to the 
gaze of the curious traveler, and to 
the slow but corroding influence of 
decay. 

But to me that lonely fortress of the 
past, was an object of instruction as 
well as of deep interest. Its aged 
walls, crumbling from the effects of 
the great revolutionist, conquering 


Time ; its mouldering ramparts, coni- 
cal windows, deep and darksome dun- 
geon, in whose gloomy recesses the 
solitary owl found a fiting abode, all, 
all told a tale. My imagination wan- 
dered back to the time when a far 
different scene presented itself, and I 
could fancy I saw before me the fierce 
and warlike Scot, armed with claymore 
and spear, and marching from this cas- 
tle, at the head of his countrymen, to 
revenge his real or imaginary wrongs. 
In that lonely fortress, long, long ago, 
might have been heard the sounds of 
mirth and revelry ; the plaided High- 
lander here told his feats of valor, and 
the crested knight recounted his ad- 
ventures, 

“ While list’ning ears drank in the tale, 

And praised the warlike brave.” 

But where are they now — the sounds 
of revelry — the crested 'knight — the 
man of martial mien ? The beautiful 
Clyde rolls its waters into the ocean, 
as in days of yore. The cuckoo fore- 
bodes the approach of summer, with as 
cheerful a note, as erst she did when 
this dismantled and decaying fortress 
stood, a barrier to the free. They are 
gone, all gone, and “ gone, gone, and 
passing away,” is inscribed in moni- 
tory characters upon every work of 
art. And how long, my young read- 
ers, ere we too shall be as the forgotten 
tenants of the ruined castle, and like 
them, “ roll unconscious dust around 
the sun ?” n. c. 

Hiqhlamd MILLS, N. T. Sbpt. 1847 .] 


“ Consult not with a fool, for he can 
neither give nor keep counsel.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


317 


* Storming a Wasp’s Nest. 

f ou see that hole in the bank? 
Years ago I remember the en- 
counter we had while storming 
a wasp’s nest. It was on a 
Wednesday morning, before school- 
time, and we wanted the grubs to fish 
with in the afternoon, which was our 
half-holiday : so here we came, in the 
broad sunshine, while the whole of the 
armed host were flying in and out of 
the hole in the *bank, beating around 
our heads, and threatening what they 
would do unless we decamped. Se- 
veral of us were armed with green 
branches, with which we beat off the 
dreaded scouts, who began to murmur 
louder and louder every moment. We 
had made a long tube, of smoldering 
paper, which was filled with powdered 
brimstone, and all that was necessary 
to be done was to thrust the tube into 
the mouth of the nest, set fire to it, and 
then close up the aperture. 

But who dare storm such a citadel, 
or head such a forlorn hope, when 
every moment scores of wasps were 
issuing out ready to do battle ? We 
had heard that wasps could not sting 
through a silk handkerchief ; so a boy 
was at last found who had courage 
enough to cover his head with one, and 
drawing on a pair of old gloves, he 
went boldly forward and thrust the 
sulphurous tube, which was lighted 
and handed to him, into the hole ; and 
scarcely had the smoke begun to rise 
before he came jumping off, and shriek- 
ing as if he himself was on fire. The 
wasps had stung through the silk, had 
got into his waistcoat, had surrounded 
us every way. Not a spot was clear, 


| saving where the burning tube threw 
out its deathly smoke on the bank ; and 
another lad was found bold enough, in 
the midst of the fight, to rush forward 
and thrust a large handful of wet clay 
on the mouth of the nest! when lo! 
they had another outlet, and out came 
the enraged host uninjured. What a 
battle had we then to fight! not one 
among us but was wounded : we slew 
scores, but still the ranks were filled 
up, for it was the “strongest” wasp’s 
nest we had ever stormed. S6me 
shrieked, some howled, others ran 
away, pursued by the winged enemy ; 
some carried off the foe concealed in 
their dresses; eyes were soon to be 
closed up ; lips swollen ; necks and 
bosoms stung ; hands rendered unbear- 
able, for not one among our number 
escaped ; and when we presented our- 
selves at the school-door, we were all 
ordered home like so many soldiers 
who are sent, after a battle, to the 
nearest hospital. Some of us were put 
to bed, and the swollen places rubbed 
with honey ; and more than one boy 
had his eyes sealed up, and was unable 
to see for a day or two. The pain we 
endured for a time was dreadful ; nor 
did we, after all, succeed in carrying 
off the nest. 

Were we not rightly served ? What 
right had we to attempt to burn and 
stifle the wasps in their nest ? True, 
they are dangerous insects; yet they 
seldom sting any one unless they can 
defend themselves to some purpose. 
Any boy who has burned himself se- 
verely may form a correct notion of the 
pain inflicted by the sting of a wasp ; 
for although the latter is less dangerous 
in the end, yet it is equally painful 


318 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


while it. lasts. Their nests are very cu- 
rious, and in form resemble the honey- 
comb, being full of cells, in which the 
white grubs are deposited ; and you will 
be surprised when I tell you that they 
are the oldest paper-makers on record. 

Reaumur states, that for twenty 
years he endeavored, without success, 
to discover the materials employed by 
wasps in forming the blue, gray, pa- 
pery substance, so much used in the 
structure of their nests. One day, 
however, he saw a female wasp alight 
on the sash of the window ; and it 
struck him, while watching her gnaw- 
ing away the wood with her mandibles, 
that it was from such materials as these 
she formed the substance which had so 
long puzzled him. He saw her detach 
from the wood a bundle of fibres, about 
the tenth of an inch in length, and finer 
than a hair ; and as she did not swal- 
low them, but gathered them into a 
mass with her feet, he had no doubt 
that his opinion was correct. In a 
short time he saw her shift to another 
part of the window, and carry with her 
the fibres which she had collected, and 
to which she continued to add. He 
then caught her, and began to examine 
her bundle, and found that it was nei- 
ther yet moistened nor rolled into a 
ball, as it is always done before used 
by the wasp in her building. He also 
noticed that, before detaching the fibres, 
she bruised them into a kind of lint 
with her mandibles. All this he imi- 
tated with his penknife, bruizing and 
paring the same wood till it resembled 
the fibres collected by the wasp; and 
so he discovered how wasps manufac- 
tured their paper ; for these fibres are 
kneaded together into a kind of paste, 


and when the wasp has formed a round 
ball of them, she spreads it out into a 
leaf, nearly as thin as tissue paper; 
and this she accomplishes by moving 
backward, and leveling it with her 
mandibles, her tongue, and her teeth. 
And so the wasp forms paper, placing 
layer upon layer, fifteen or sixteen 
sheets deep, and thus preventing the 
earth from falling down into her nest. — 
Boy's Summer Book. 


The Disobedient Boy. 

am going to tell you, dear chil- 
JJ dren, about a boy who disobeyed 
IS his mother, and the consequences 

of his disobedience. 

A family, consisting of a mother and 
two little boys, lived in one of the 
pleasantest villages in Connecticut. A 
short distance from the house vvas a 
small stream of water, passing through 
many pleasant fields, until it entered a 
grove of oak trees, and was lost to 
view. Often had the anxious mother 
commanded her boys not to go to the 
brook, on any occasion, without her 
leave. But when William was about 
ten years old, he was left alone one 
day, with his little brother, while their 
mother went to visit a sick neighbor, at 
the other end of the village. She had 
been absent but a short time, when 
William persuaded little Wallace to 
go to the brook with him, to catch fish. 
He finally got angry with little Wal- 
lace, and returned to the house alone. 
When his mother arrived, she inquired 
for his brother. He told her he did 
not know where he was. Oh, Wil- 
liam ! She then inquired if he had 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


been to the brook. He was silent. 
The truth flashed upon her mind that 
he had disobeyed her — an act she 
never knew him guilty of before. His 
mother then took him by the hand, and 
told him to direct her to the place 
where he had left his brother. No 
Wallace was there ! They then fol- 
lowed the brook toward the grove. 
They soon perceived something on the 
bank ahead, and on reaching the spot, 
found it to be little Wallace’s hat. 
“ Where is my boy ?” exclaims the 
frantic mother. “ Wallace ! Wal- 
lace !” she wildly called ; but no Wal- 
lace answered. Her cries soon brought 
some neighbors to her assistance, who 
proceeded to search for the lost boy. 
He was soon found — but oh, how 
changed ! He was dead ! The clear 
water was sweeping over him, as he 
lay on the bottom, still grasping his 
tiny fishing rod. 

Oh, how his mother shrieked, as she 
beheld her little darling taken to the 
shore, with the cold water dripping 
from his little curls. She fainted, and 
sank unconscious to the ground. The 
neighbors ran hastily for assistance ; 
the physician soon arrived ; but it was 
too late. Oh, how William sobbed, 
and how fast the scalding tears poured 
down his little cheeks, and how vio- 
lently his little frame shook as he saw 
his little brother laid on the bed, never 
to rise again. 

Now, dear children, you can see 
what can result from the act of disobe- 
dience to parents. Oh, never be guilty 
of disobeying your parents ; and never 
get angry with your brothers and sis- 
ters, or playmates. Take warning by 
me, dear* children. william. 


319 



Harvesting Apples. 

« o my mind, there are few sights 
more charming, during the au- 
IH tumnal months, than an orchard 
^ loaded with ripe apples. Here 
is a picture of a man harvesting the 
apples from one of the trees near the 
house. It is a favorite fruit of his, I 
guess. Well do I remember the “gold- 
en sweeting” tree, that stood in the 
yard of the old-fashioned cottage where 
I spent the happiest hours of my boy- 
hood. What a time we boys used to 
have, when those apples were ripe, 
and when the day arrived for picking 
them. The bad boys in the neighbor- 
hood used to steal some of them occa- 
sionally, I am sorry to say. But we 
had, generally, an abundance of them, 
for all that ; and I once heard my 
father say, he thought it was too bad 
for the boys to steal the apples, when 
he never refused any body that asked 
him for some of them. What a pro- 
pensity there is in some people to steal. 
They seem to love stealing, as much 
as they love to play ball, and almost 
as much as they love to eat. They 
will steal just for the sake of it. Little 
boy ! take care you never allow vour- 
selj^to take what does not belong to 
you. All great thieves begin in a 
small way. I presume most of the 
horse-thieves that are shut up in our 


320 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


penitentiaries, served quite an appren- 
ticeship before they ever stole a horse. 
I should not wonder if they began their 
career very frequently by stealing 
fruit . — Theodore Thinker . 


The Split-Snake. 

S t appears that Mr. Haensel, of the 
Nicobar Mission, on one occasion 
was bitten by a small serpent, call- 
ed the split-snake, which is ex- 
tremely slender, and capable of insi- 
nuating itself into the smallest hole or 
crevice. In speaking of his work- 
room, at the Brethren’s Garden, where 
he usually stuffed or preserved in spi- 
rits these and other remarkable ani- 
mals, Mr. Haensel observes : — “ There 
was a door in a dark part of the room, 
with a large, clumsy lock upon it. 
One evening, as I was attempting to 
open it, I suddenly felt a prick in my 
finger, and at the same instant a violent 
electric shock, as if I had split asun- 
der. Not thinking of a serpent, I at 
first imagined that my Malabar boys 
had, in play, wound some wire about 
the handle, and that it was by this that 
I was hurt. I therefore asked them, 
sharply, what they had done to the 
door; but they denied that they had 
meddled with it; and when I made a 
second attempt to open it, I was attack- 
ed still more violently, and perceived 
the blood trickling down my finger. 
I then turned into my room and sucked 
the wound until I could draw no r^pre 
from it; after which, I applied to it 
some spirits of turpentine, and tied it 
with a bandage ; being hurried that 


evening with other business, I took no 
farther notice of it. In the night, how- 
ever, it swelled and was exceedingly 
painful. In the morning, when I went 
into the work-room, I. thought I per- 
ceived an unpleasant, musky smell ; 
and on approaching the door already 
mentioned, the stench was intolerable. 

I therefore asked the boys what they 
had brought into the room ; but they 
denied that they knew any thing of the 
matter. Having procured a candle, I 
then discovered the cause of all the 
mischief. About six inches of a young 
snake hung out of the key-hole, per- 
fectly dead ; and on taking off the lock, 

I found the creature twisted into it, and 
so much wounded by the turn of the 
bolt, from my attempt to open the door, ' 
that it had died in consequence. It 
had been entering the room through the 
key-hole, when I accidentally stopped 
its progress, and was bitten by it ; and 
considering the deadly, nature of the 
serpent’s poison, I felt thankful to God 
that, though ignorant of the cause of the . 
wound, I applied proper remedies to it, 
in consequence of which my life was 
not endangered. I have been told that 
the bite of every serpent is accompani- 
ed, in a greater or less degree, by a 
sensation similiar to that of an elec- 
tric shock. The name of split-snake, 
which is given to this animal, we con- 
sidered as descriptive, not so much of 
its appearance, as of the sensation occa- 
sioned by the bite.” 


“ He that never changes any of his 
opinions, never corrects any of his 
mistakes.” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


321 


My Little Brother. 

BY CAROLINE. 

I have a little brother — a darling boy is he — 

As gay as any summer bird — as busy as a bee. 

His eyes are dark as evening’s clouds when drops her curtain gray, 

Yet full of glorious living light, as brilliant as the day. 

Like clasping tendrils of the grape, the locks of his bright hair 
Wave on his brow, and smooth soft cheek, and down his neck so fair. 
His laugh breaks gayly on the ear, like the carol of some bird ; 

So wild and sweet the music which the summer air hath stirred ; 

And when these merry tones ring out, I gladly stop to hear 
That oft-repeated merry laugh, so careless and so clear. 

Last eve the sky was purpled with the hues of falling night, 

And I heard his dancing footstep bounding homeward in its flight. 

Then wearily his voice called out, “Dear sister, day is through — 

I’m tired of play, of every thing — I want to sit by you.” 

He came, and tossing back his curls, he sat him at my feet, 

And raised to mine those honest eyes, so thoughtful and so sweet 
At last he spake, and spake of Him, the Holy One of God, 

Who many, many years agone, the earth in beauty trod ; 

And of the stars that ’gan to gleam upon the brow of night, 

How they were angel’s eyes, that looked on earth in love and light, 
And thus in dreamy, thoughtful words, o’er which earth held no power* 
Passed off the holy, quiet calm, of that sweet evening hour. 

God bless thee, my dear brother, and protect thy gentle youth, 

And keep thy heart forever in its purity and truth. 


Invocation to Evening. 

Come Evening, once again, season of peace, 
Return, sweet Evening, and continue long! 
Methinks I see thee in the golden west, 

With matron step slow moving, while the Night 
Treads on thy sweeping train; one hand emfploy’d 
In letting fall the curtain of repose 
On bird and beast, the other charged for man, 
With sweet oblivion of the cares of day. 


Cowper. 


322 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


WAR — WHAT WE THINK OF IT. 

» e are very sorry to be obliged 
to decline the account of a 
celebration of the fourth of 
July, written by a correspond, 
ent whom we very much esteem. Our 
objection to the article is, that in it — 
probably without any such intention — 
the writer has contributed somewhat to 
foster the spirit of war in the minds of 
the young. We could not, willingly, 
thus lend our influence, for a right arm. 
We are opposed to war ; and the more 
we see of it, and hear of it, the strong, 
er is our opposition. We are not pre- 
pared to go against all war ; but we 
are convinced that few, very few 
exigencies can justify a resort to arms 
on the part of nations. So strong is 
our dislike of the war spirit, and so 
great our fear that the young will im- 
bibe that spirit, that we are always 
sorry to see our little friends imitating 
the example of military men, and going 
through their manoeuvres, with swords, 
and pistols, and uniforms. 

In a recent number of the Cabinet, 
we gave a history of General Taylor, 
at present commanding the principal 
branch of the United States forces in 
Mexico. We did it because we thought 
the fame of this man, coupled with the 
position in which he stands as a promi- 
nent candidate for the presidency, call- 
ed for such a history. If we had sup- 
posed that so much as a thimble-full 
of the spirit of war would be excited 
in the breast of any of our readers, we 
should not have presented such a his- 
tory. We had no such fear, at the 
time — nor have we any now, that we 


know of, though a brother of the corps 
editorial, to whom we are indebted for 
many flattering courtesies, and whose 
courtesy is only equaled by his faith- 
fulness and frankness, has administered 
a pretty sharp rebuke for the act. We 
take this opportunity, however, to dis- 
claim any sympathy whatever for the 
genius of war, and to beg our good 
friend, the offended editor, to distin- 
guish between the mere history of mili- 
tary heroes — which is a matter of in- 
terest, certainly, to every body — and 
the indiscriminate laudation of war in 
general, or any military exploits in 
particular. By the way, friend Bur- 
leigh, suppose you don your spectacles, 
and read our article again. 


TO THB MAN WITH THE MAGNET. 

Dear Sir — In your notice of my 
letter to you, some months ago, besides 
saying some pretty things, to the credit 
of my communication, and answering 
my childish curiosity, “ why you are 
called the Man with the Magnet,” you 
added, “ we shall be glad to hear from 
her again, at any rate.” Well, now, 
to tell the truth, I did feel a little flat- 
tered by what you allowed yourself to 
say, and have talked with father about 
trying my hand again. I guess he 
thought I had better wait awhile, until 
I got my brain steadied. He says you 
are well pleased with letters from the 
country, when they are written in such 
style as to interest the majority of 
those for whose benefit your Cabinet 
is published. I do not deny that I 
have committed some things to paper, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


323 


all along, as leisure moments have 
occurred, none of which will ever get 
into “ the dark pigeon-hole,” for the 
best reason in the world, and that is, 
that I have just as good a place for 

them. One of them, however, con- 
tained what I called a polite invitation 
to the party represented on the cover 
of the Cabinet, to come and spend 

. some of the hot days of summer on the 
r shores of Chaumont Bay ; promising 
to act as guide, in searching out the 
curious things that are familiar to me, 
as objeots of interest. That would 
jmake just six of us, besides the “ Man 
1 with the Magnet” — three boys and 
t three «girls — or, as I said to myself, 
“three boys and three magnets.” 

I could show you a vast number of 
petrified animals, imbedded in our rock 
shores, resembling fishes of various 
species and sizes ; some three feet 
long, and others but as many inches. 
Professor Morse, when lecturing here 
on the science of Geology, said that 
I they lived in an age of the world long 
prior to the existence of either man or 
beast on this earth, and that they be- 
longed to species of marine animals 
long since extinct, though they give 
the exact outward resemblance. I 
expect the “ Man with the Magnet” 
would be glad to chisel out some of 
these curious specimens, for his Cabi- 
net of curiosities at home. They 
would do well to put into that old 
idlest the boy is sitting upon. And 

then, I said to myself, after they have 
returned to New York again, they will 
know more about this Chaumont than 
I could tell them in three letters ; for 
I see that it takes so little to make a 
long letter, that I should despair of 


being able to do any thing by way of 
description. I had intended to pro- 
nounce Chaumont for you, if I should 
ever write again ; but you have not 
betrayed any desire on your part, and 
I conclude that you think you know 
already ; and, therefore, after thank- 
ing you heartily for your politeness to 
me, I subscribe myself your devoted 
friend and constant reader, 

Mart de Chaumont. 

Chaumont, N. Y„ September 2, 1847. 


What ! another question about the 
group on the cover of our magazine, 
around the Man with the Magnet ? 
Well, go on, boys and girls. We love 
to gratify your curiosity. So, then, 
little Maria, you would like to know 
whether that group is an accurate 
representation of the editor’s family. 
It must be admitted, certainly, that in 
one respect it is not — the editor not 
being blessed with a family, in the strict 
sense of the term. But in another 
respect it is, as it is meant to be a pic- 
ture of some six or seven thousand 
little folks who take the Cabinet, and 
whom we love to call our children. 
Queen Elizabeth, who was never mar- 
ried,, used to say that England was her 
husband. In the same way, we think, 
we may be allowed to regard the boys 
and girls we talk to so much, as our 
family, though they make a pretty 
large family, it must be confessed. 


Mr. Wickham, of this city, who has 
done so much to entertain and delight 
the little folks, has just placed them 
under new obligations, by a set of 
builders’ blocks, prepared with great 


324 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


care and ingenuity. The blocks are 
of wood, all covered with pictures, and 
large letters. Almost any style of 
house can be built with these blocks, 
and a great many short words can be 
spelled with them. The whole are 
nicely fitted into a box, and are for 
sale at seventy-five cents. We can 
scarcely think of a finer thing for a 
little boy or girl. By the way, the 
publisher of the Cabinet promises a 
set of these blocks to any one who will 
obtain two new subscribers, and send 
two dollars. 


It will be remembered that some 
time ago, we published a letter from 
one of our young subscribers, who 
said he earned the money which the 
Cabinet cost him by catching musk- 
rats. We remarked, at the time, that 
we almost hoped these animals were 
mischievous, and were in the habit of 
fighting a little occasionally, as it was 
morally certain that so many of them 
were to be killed for our benefit. So 
we requested the writer to let us know 
something about the habits of his vic- 
tims, the muskrats. We have just 
received a letter from him, enclosing 
the money for his own subscription 
(from which we conclude that musk- 
rats have been pretty plenty this sea- 
son) and for that of two of his friends 
whom he had induced to subscribe. 
He says : 

“ You wish me to give some descrip- 
tion of the manners and customs of an 
ancient family called muskrats. They 
burrow in the banks of creeks and 
rivers, and enter their holes under 
water. As I have not consulted Gold- 
smith or Cuvier, I cannot tell you what 


particular genus they belong to. They 
generally remain in their holes, in the 
day time, and roam about at night, 
committing depredations. They live 
on most kinds of vegetables, poultry, 
and fish. When they are caught in a 
trap, they plunge into the water, and 
generally remain until they are drown- 
ed. They sometimes, however, from 
their love of liberty, gnaw their legs 
off above the trap, and leave the foot, 
minus the muskrat. I think from this 
they have got pretty good spunk, al- 
though I never had a real battle with 
one. I wish some of your city ladies 
could be present when I take one of 
these fellows out of the trap. I am 
very much mistaken, or they would 
have perfumery enough to last them a 
fortnight. When you next hear from 
me, Mr. Editor, I shall probably be in 
the ‘old Granite state/ as I leave the 
Oneida valley this morning for the 
bank of the Merrimack. I shall re- 
main there probably a year or so, with 
my father, where I hope, with a little 
prudent guessing, I may ‘whittle my 
way’ to useful manhood, and to happi- 
ness. I remain your friend, 

“h. b. b.” 


A CHARADE. 

We are indebted to a correspondent, 
who writes from Nashville, Tennessee, 
for several excellent charades, which 
we shall take the liberty to propound 
to our little readers. Here is one of 
them. 

My first is a vehicle. 

My second is a pronoun. 

My third is a snare. 

My whole is a part of the name of 
an interesting book. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


325 



What a beautiful sight it is to see 
a ship, with all her sails set, bounding 
over the ocean wave ! Every thing 
about a ship is interesting ; and we 
have thought we should please our 
readers if we gave them some account 
of ship-building. So we shall present 
them, in our next number, with a de- 
scription of the manner in which ships 
are built, and how they are launched. 
We have had some fine pictures en- 
graved to illustrate the article, and 
cannot help thinking that it will be 
quite worthy the attention of our friends 
the little folks. 

TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

We cannot tell, certainly, whether 
the article on “ The War with Mex- 
ico,” will come within the scope of 
our magazine, until the writer fur- 
nishes us with the whole. He will 
oblige us by forwarding the remain- 
der. 

“ Caroline’s” caroling lines (we 
could hardly help the play on these 
words — so do not give us credit for a 
pun) about her “ little brother,” in 
the present number, are pretty — quite 
above the ordinary poetic efforts which 
usually meet our eye in profusion, on 
the arrival of almost every messenger 
from the post-office, and which so na- 
turally find their way into the “dark 
pigeon-hole.” We have taken the 
liberty to make an alteration or two 


in rythm only. Sing again, Caroline. 
We love such strains. But how like 
the music of our sweet warbler on 
“ Auld Long Island’s sea-girt shore !” 
Sarah, is this you, in disguise ? You 
have not quite hung your harp on the 
billows, have you ? We hope not. 

The lines “ To my Little Sister” — 
what a coincidence in the communi- 
cations of two correspondents, and so 
far apart, too — we shall publish, per- 
haps, next month. 

The answer to the puzzle respecting 
the division of the farm, was stereo- 
typed before we received the commu- 
nication of t. d. He will, therefore, 
excuse us, if we do not publish his 
remarks respecting it. 

The two enigmas, one from Maria, 
and another from a little boy, eight 
years old, who lives in Louisiana, are 
good. 

Other communications arb on hand, 
which, like different bags of grain in a 
grist-mill, are awaiting their turn. 


Peter. Father, what is the mean- 
ing of religious liberty ? 

Father. Why do you ask that 
question, my son ? 

P. Because I saw a long article 
lately in the “ Herald of Religious 
Liberty,” headed “ Familiar Conversa- 
tions on Botany,” which was copied 
from the Youth’s Cabinet without 
credit. 

F. Well, what then? That is not 
a very uncommon thing among editors, 
is it? 

P. No, I don’t know that it is. But 
I want to know what the editor of the 
Herald means by religious liberty. 
Does he mean a liberty to use another 


326 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


man’s property, just as if it were his 
own ? 

F. Peter, I am not much acquainted 
with ethics. I will write to the editor, 
and ask him. 


ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. VI. 

This enigma was answered by Ann 
Eliza, the little girl who puzzled out 
the problem about the old gentleman’s 
farm, and by somebody else whose 
name we do not know. 

Lot was a righteous man. Exit 
denotes departure. A Lion is a large 
animal. . Glee is another name for 
mirth. A Net is an article used for 
fishing. The Leg is a part of the hu- 
man frame. To Ignite is the same as 
to kindle. The Egg is an article of 
food. A Note is a short communica- 
tion. There was a famous battle 
fought, during the war of the Revolu- 
tion, at Lexington, in the State of Mas- 
sachusetts, April 19th, 1775. 


ENIGMA NUMBER VII. 

“Ann Eliza” sends us an enigma 
of her own, which she calls “ An 
Enigma for Little Patty,” the writer of 
the one which she has answered above. 
We presume, however, that Ann Eliza 
does not mean that nobody shall an- 
swer her enigma but Little Patty — so 
none of our readers need be afraid to 
try their hand at it. 

I am composed of eleven letters. 
My 11, 2, 10, 6, 4, 8, was a holy man; 
my 2* 11, 9, 3, 7, is an important 
statesman of the United States ; my 3, 
4, 7, 8, 4, 5, is an infectious fever ; 
my 1, 2, 7, 3, 6, 10, 4, is a flower; 
my 6, 11, 8, 4, 10, 4, 5, 7, is a gueat 
evi. to the human family ; my 7, 3, 6, 


8, 4, is what the Editor of the Cabinet 
generally has on ; my 8, 6, 3, 4, is an 
important article in building. My. 
whole is a place where an important 
battle of the American Revolution was 
fought. ANN ELIZA. 

We have received several beautiful 
pieces of new music from Ferrett and 
Company, Philadelphia, *Hhe gentlemen 
who introduced a new era in the publi- 
cation of sheet music, by which it is af- 
forded for half the former price. They 
and their excellent plan deserve patron- 
age. Among the pieces we have re- 
ceived are the following: Four Songs 
from the Opera of Amilie ; Six Songs 
from the Opera of Zampa ; The 
Three Ages of Love, a ballad ; Can 
any one tell ? and My Mother. 


Our friend Charles W. Sanders, one 
of the editors of the Young Choir, has, 
in connection with B. A. Russell, pre- 
pared a singing-book for the little folks, 
called the Young Vocalist. We have 
just been looking it over, and are satis- 
fied that it is a very fine thing. The 
music is simple and tasteful, and the 
words generally chaste and excellent. 
It is published in Rochester, by Sage 
and Brother, and for sale by booksell- 
ers generally. 

The Messrs. Howland, of this city — 
to whom, by the way, our readers are 
indebted for some of the best pictures in 
the Cabinet — have just finished a very 
striking and truthful wood engraving of 
General Taylor. Those who want a 
likeness of the old gentleman can now 
obtain an excellent one, at a cost 
scarcely worth mentioning. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


327 


My Little Playmate and her Grandfather. 


BY THEODORE THINKER. 


irginia Willson 
was of very near- 
ly my own age. 
We used to play 
together, when we 
were little child- 
ren ; and many a pleasant hour have 


we spent in company, listening to the 
music of the birds, and gathering 
honey-suckles and anemones. Her 
father died before her recollection; 
and she could not have been more than 
six or seven years old, when God sent 
kind angels to conduct her mother to 




VIRGINIA. AND HER GRANDFATHER READING THE BIBLE. 


heaven. Little Virginia was then an 
orphan, and well do I remember how 
she wept as she told me that they had 
laid her dear mother to sleep in the 
cold ground. But Virginia had a very 
kind and good grandfather, who adopted 
Vol. II. 11 


her as his own child, when her mother 
died. He was an excellent old gentle- 
man. How he loved the Bible ! Many 
a time I have seen him teaching his 
young charge out of thte precious book. 
“ Theodore,” said she to me, one day, 


328 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


as we were going to gather some 
water-cresses in my father’s meadow, 
u Theodore, you don’t know how happy 
1 have been for a week past. Grandpa 
has been showing me such sweet verses 
in the Bible. L didn’t know how good 
that book was before. It says, 1 When 
my father and my mother forsake me, 
then the Lord will take me up.’ Oh, 
how kind it was for God to make such 
a book, and to write such things in it. 
And grandpa says, that verse was put 
in the book for little girls like me. 
You know I have lost my dear father 
and mother” — her£ the tears started 
from Virginia’s eyes, and, for a little 
while, she cried so much that she could 
not speak ; but iy and by she com- 
menced again, and her countenance 
was even more bright and cheerful 
than it was before — “ My father and 
mother are gone away ; but the Lord 
has taken care of me. And grandpa 
has been telling me, too, how the 
Saviour came down from heaven into 
this world, and how he died for little 
children, and grown up people. Theo- 
dore, I have been praying that God 
would make me good, like my mother, 
-so that I may go and live with her 
again by and by. I dreamed last night 
that she came back to sec me, and I 
seemed to hear her say, ( Virginia, my 
child,’ just as she used to, before she 
died, ‘ Virginia, be a good girl, and 
learn to love Jesus Christ.’ I thought 
I saw the angels, too, all dressed in 
white ; and some of them flew to me, 
and seemed to beckon me -away from 
the world. I don’t know why it is, but 
it seems to me that I am not going to 
live here long! And how strange it 
is ! I used to be afraid to die ; but it 


is not so now. Death seems to me 
like going a pleasant journey.” 

For a long time we talked together 
about dying, until we quite forgot our 
water-cresses. We indulged a multi- 
tude of childish fancies. We won- 
dered whether we should know each 
other in heaven, and whether the 
Saviour would speak to little children. 
I could not see how Virginia should be 
willing to die, and leave so many beau- 
tiful things. She tried to tell me how 
it was, but I could not understand her. 
Virginia was a feeble child ; but to 
me it did not seem possible that she 
could die. I thought of what she said 
often, after this ramble in the meadow, 
and wished I could feel as she did 
about dying. 

Little Virginia did not stay long in 
the world. She died before the leaves 
began to fall in autumn. She died, as 
a bud withers, ere it has unfolded. 
And as the angels came to convey her 
to heaven, she said to her young play- 
mates, When my father and my 
mother forsake me, then the Lord will 
take me up.” 


We are all Brethren. 

We are children — God our Sire- 
Brother man, brother man ! 

Let to Him each heart aspire, 

As to Heaven flameth fire; 

We are children — God our Sire — 
Brother man, brother man ! 

God has spoke it; we shall see— 
Brother man, brother man; 

All mankind shall brethren be, 

Like the stars in unity — 

God has spoke it; we shall see — » 
Brother man, brother man ! 

Selected. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


329 


Peaches and Moral Philosophy. 

BT PROFESSOR ALDEN. 

t number of boys were seated in 
the corner of a field, employed 
in opening chestnut burs, which 
they had taken from a tree which 
overshadowed them. One of them, 
Benjamin Hamilton by name, was very 
large for his age, and had a great influ- 
ence over his companions. This was 
owing, in part, to his bodily size, and 
in part to his superior shrewdness and 
cunning. 

“ Well,” said he, as he opened the 
last husk of the pile before him, “ I 
have chestnuts enough for the present, 
and now I want some peaches. Who 
wants some peaches ?” 

This question was answered by 
several repetitions of the personal pro- 
noun, in the first person singular. 

“ We are all agreed in one thing, 
then,” continued Benjamin, “ and now 
as to the means of getting them. I can 
tell you how we can get plenty of first 
rate fall peaches.” 

“ Tell us, do,” was uttered by seve- 
ral voices. 

“ There is a tree which hangs full 
of dead ripe ones, where Squire Par- 
sons’ old house used to stand, and 
James and Robert here are the chaps 
to go and get them for us.” 

“ Does he keep them to give away ?” 
said James. 

« Not exactly,” said Ben, winking to 
one of the boys, who was better ac- 
quainted with him than James was. 
James Walker’s father had recently 
moved into the place. James had not 
been with the boys much, and did not 


know them very well, and they did 
not know him very well. 

“ Does he keep them to sell ?” said 
James. 

“ No.” 

“ How are we to get them, then ?” 

“ You are to take them. This is the 
plan, boys.’ We will all meet at the 
tavern to-night, and play a spell, and 
then James shall go round to the tree, 
and John can go to keep him company, 
but needn’t go near the tree. If the 
Squire misses his peaches, and asks 
any of us, we can say that we havn’t 
been near the tree ; and that will be 
the truth. He never will suspect 
James, he has been with us so little.” 

“ That/’s a first rate plan,” said Isaac 
Gale ; “ give me old Ben Hamilton for 
planning. You’ll go, won’t you, boys ? 
You will go, won’t you, John ?” 

“ I don’t care if I do, if James has a 
mind to.” 

“ James will go,” said Ben, in a tone 
which took it for granted that the mat- 
ter was settled. All present seemed to 
consider it so, except James. 

“ I am not used to stealing. I 
wasn’t brought up to it.” 

“ It isn’t stealing,” said Ben, in a 
very confident tone. “ I should like to 
see the fellow who says it is stealing. 
It isn’t stealing at all. We have a 
right to take what we want to eat.” 

“ Why not take them in the day- 
time ?” said James. 

“ Because the old Squire keeps an 
eye upon them all day. Come, now, be 
a good fellow, and get us some peaches, 
and then all the fellows will like you.” 

“ I can’t do it.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Because it is not right.” 


330 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


“ What is the reason it isn’t ? I say 
that we have a right to take as many 
as we want to eat.” 

I know you say so, but you must 
prove it.” 

“We are not always obliged to do 
what is just right.” 

“ How do you prove that 

“ Prove it ?” said Ben, a good deal 
nettled. “ It don’t need proving. How 
do you prove that you are obliged to do 
right ?” 

James could not give so prompt an 
answer as he desired to. The question 
seemed very simple, and yet he could 
not answer it. He thought that it 
would not be proper to say that we are 
bound to do right because it is right ; 
and yet that was all that it occurred to 
him to say. At length he said it, and 
was greeted with a loud laugh from 
Ben. 

'“That is great reasoning — about 
as good as that of the negro, when he 
undertook to give his Dutch master the 
reason of the death of his best horse. 
Jack told his master that the horse died 
because he stopped breathing.” 

A loud laugh followed this effort at 
wit,- on the part of Ben. 

“ I guess I had better go home,” said 
James. 

“ You said, when you came, that 
you would stay till four o’clock. If 
you go before that time, you will have 
told a lie. Boys who are so amazing 
afraid of stealing musn’t lie.” 

“ I’ll stay if you will behave decent- 
ly, and not without.” 

“ We will behave, that is certain. 
We should be very sorry to lose the 
company of such a nice, moral young 
gentlemen. Boys, take off your hats. 


Perhaps Mr. Walker will give us a 
sermon.” 

The hats were taken off, in mock 
reverence, and James arose and walked 
toward home, amid a laugh that was 
rather loud than hearty, for it was 
affected to please Ben. 

“ I’m not agoing to be cheated out 
of the peaches, at any rate,” said Ben. 
“ As that chicken-hearted fellow won’t 
go, I’ll go myself, and you will all go 
with me.” 

None refused, though two inwardly 
resolved that they would be found miss- 
ing when the time came. 

“We will meet and play, till about 
nine o’clock, and then we will separate 
as if we were going home, and then 
come together in the woods at the Cor- 
ners, and go up the Forge road, and 
cut across Gleason’s meadow, and come 
to the tree.” 

“ That will be going a great way 
round,” said one. 

“It will give the old Squire more 
time to get sound asleep; and if he 
makes us go so far, we must pay our- 
selves in peaches.” 

“ That is a good idea.” 

When they had finished cracking 
their nuts, and arranging their plan, 
they separated. In the evening they 
came together, and at nine o’clock pro- 
ceeded to execute their plan of plunder. 
As they drew near the tree, conversa- 
tion was carried on in a whisper, and 
a sharp look out was kept in every di- 
rection. Just as they came to the tree, 
a man rose up from the grass, and 
made an attempt to seize one of them. 
They screamed, and ran in the direc- 
tion from which they came ; but an- 
other man was there to intercept them. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


331 


They then ran in an opposite direction. 
This led them toward a deep, muddy 
stream, over which a slight bridge was 
thrown. The trees that grew beside 
the banks of the stream overshadowed 
it, and made it in the night very dark. 

They made for the bridge. One of 
the men called out to the other to catch 
them before they got to the bridge, or 
they would escape. This led them to 
strain every nerve to reach the bridge. 
When they came to it, they found that 
the planking had all been taken up, 
but they were under such headway 
that they could not stop ; so they had 
nothing to do but to jump into the wa- 
ter, pretty much all together. The 
water was about two or three feet deep, 
and plenty of mud at the bottom. 
They had hardly got on their feet, 
before both the men stood on the tim- 
bers of the bridge, with long whips in 
their hands. The boys began to cry, 
and beg heartily, and Ben a little 
louder than any of the rest. One of 
the men told them to stay where they 
were until they had leave to come out ; 
advising them, very composedly, to 
keep very still if they felt any water- 
snakes moving about their feet. This 
led them all to jump and scream ; but 
a few blows from the whip quieted 
them somewhat ; and the two men sat 
down on the timbers of the bridge, and 
went to talking about the coming elec- 
tion. After they had occupied them- 
selves thus for some time, one said to 
the other, “ I guess it is about time for 
these boys to go home. Here, you 
ringleader, you crawl out there by that 
log..” While Ben was doing so, he 
received several smart blows from the 
whip of one of the men. They were 


all called out and served in the same 
manner. 

“ Now, my lads,” said one of the 
men, “ you may go home, and when 
you wish to come again we will be 
ready for you. Go home.” They did 
not wait to be told a second time, you " 
may be sure. 

It happened while they were sitting 
in the corner of the field, as described 
above, one of Mr. Parsons’ hired men 
was passing on the other side of the 
high stone wall, and heard the plot to 
rob Mr. Parsons of his peaches. With 
Mr. Parsons’ consent, he and another 
hired man lay in wait for them, and 
treated them as noticed above. 

When James reached home, he went 
to his father, and asked why he was 
under obligation to do right ? 

“ Because it is right,” said his father. 

“ I told them so,” said James, “and 
they laughed at me, and it didn’t seem . 
to me that it was giving much of a 
reason.” 

“ It is, properly speaking, a fact or 
truth, rather than a reason. There are 
some truths that do not need reasons. 
How do you know that the whole is 
greater than its part ?” 

“Because — because it must be so. 
Every body knows it is so.” 

“ That is not giving a reason for it, 
though what you say is true. You 
mean to say, that every body knows, 
without proof, that the whole is greater 
than its part.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ So every body knows, without 
proof, that we are under obligation to 
do right. It is a self-evident truth, 
which needs no reason — which no rea- 
soning can make clearer.” 


332 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 



Rembrandt Van Ryn. 


S ^kHis distinguished artist was born 
fl in a village near Leyden. His 
m real name was Gerretsz, but his 
youth, having passed in a place 
called Van Ryn, on the banks of the 
Rhine, obtained for him the appellation 
by which he was distinguished. 

Few, if any particulars have reach- 
ed us concerning the early development 
of that wonderful talent which rendered 
him the first of portrait painters. He 
received the rudiments of his education 
in the school of Jacque Van Zwanen- 
burg, where his uncommon talents ex- 
cited the admiration of his master ; from 
thence he became the pupil of Peter 
Lastman, equally distinguished for his 
composition and force of coloring ; and, 
lastly, he studied under Saint Pinas, an 
historical, landscape, and portrait pain- 
ter of considerable eminence, from 
whom he acquired a taste for that 
strong opposition in light and shade, 


which so happily distinguished his 
paintings. 

Rembrandt was an exact copier of 
nature. It was his delight to go from 
his studio into the town or fields, and to 
sketch whatever he met with in its 
most simple character. But, although 
indifferent in his choice of subjects, 
apparently regardless, either of grace 
or beauty, he represented nature with 
a truth and power which has never 
been surpassed. 

An artist who appreciated the extra- 
ordinary talents of young Rembrandt, 
earnestly advised him to carry one of 
his best pictures to the Hague. He 
mentioned to him a connoisseur, who 
had both ability and inclination to foster 
genius, and happily Van Ryn availed 
himself of this advice. He was receiv- 
ed, not only with kindness and respect, 
but an hundred florins encouraged his 
further labors. This little incident 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


333 


laid the foundation of Rembrandt’s for- 
tune; it served to make the public 
acquainted with his merit ; it served 
also to give him that quiet confidence, 
in his talents, without which it is per- 
haps impossible to excel. 

Rembrandt now resolved to settle at 
Amsterdam, where his paintings were 
highly appreciated. Young men flock- 
ed to his studio ; many of them belong- 
ed to families of distinction, and not a 
few possessed considerable talents. 

At this peridd his pictures were 
highly finished, and with a neat pencil 
resembling those of Mieris, whose unu- 
sual sweetness of coloring, and deli- 
cacy of touch, with .peculiar clearness 
and transparency, equaled the pictures 
of Gerard Douw. Those of his after 
years assumed a style of coloring and 
handling extremely opposite, bold, and 
energetic, and with a degree of force 
unequaled by any other artist, although 
Eeckbout and some of his best disci- 
ples have approached very near. 

Endowed with a fertile imagination, 
correctness of eye, and great powers in 
apportioning light and shade, it has 
been suggested that if Rembrandt’s 
early studies' had been at Rome, in- 
stead of beside the Rhine, his taste 
would have been proportionally refined, 
and that an acquaintance with the 
antique would have rendered him pre- 
eminent. Such might have been the 
case, but when a natural deficiency in 
taste, and elevation of thought exists, it 
is more than probable that the scenery 
and objects to which he had become 
familiarized in infancy, would have 
retained their ascendency. The more 
especially, as he procured a collection 
of the finest Italian fruits, drawings, 


and designs, and studied them with 
pleasure, though without any improve- 
ment of his taste. It was said that he 
had more delight in contemplating his 
repository of old draperies and turbans, 
armors and weapons, which he jocu- 
larly called antique, than the works of 
Grecian artists, or even the composi- 
tions of Raphael. 

The genuine works of Rembrandt 
are rarely met with, and yield incredi- 
ble prices. The greater number are 
preserved in the costly collections of 
English noblemen. Some adorn the 
Ducal palace at Florence, where the 
portrait of the artist, painted by him- 
self, may be seen in the gallery of 
artists. A few remain at Genoa, one 
or two at Turin, and several in the 
cabinets of the French king and the 
Duke of Orleans . — London Juvenile 
Library. 


Anecdote of Tyndal. 

illiam Tyndal was a remark- 
able man. He lived, too, in 
a remarkable age — in the six- 
teenth century — at the time of 
the great strife between Popery and the 
Protestant religion. He translated the 
Bible into English, and had it print- 
ed. As an instance of his fearless- 
ness, this story is told of him : One 
day he was walking with another priest, 
who said, “We had better be s without 
God’s laws than the Pope’s.” But 
Tyndal cried out, indignantly, “ I de- 
fy the Pope and his laws ! If God 
spare my life, ere many years I will 
cause the boy who driveth the plough 
to know more of the Scriptures .than 
you do.” 



334 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Adventures of a Half Dollar. 

ttring thirty-six years of wander- 
Jf ll ing through this busy, changing 
. MW world of ours, in how many 
interesting scenes must you 
have borne an important part! How 
many, who once called you their own, 
are now where they neither buy, or 
sell, or get gain ! These were some 
of the reflections forced upon my mind 
as my attention was accidentally di- 
rected to the date of a half dollar piece, 
which I held in my hand. Once start- 
ed upon this track of thought, my mind 
wandered long amid the adventures . 
which I supposed must have befallen 
our hero, during so many years of 
travel, and I thought I would like to 
know the history of a part, at least, of 
these adventures. Supposing that some 
of the readers of the Youth’s Cabinet 
might possibly have a degree of the 
same curiosity, if introduced to our 
adventurer, I have concluded to let 
him tell his own story, without inform- 
ing them whether it was communicated 
to me in visions of the day or night ; 
or whether the incidents related are 
strictly true ; though I will just ob- 
serve that I do not think them very 
improbable. 

“You are not mistaken,” said our 
hero, “ in supposing that I must have 
met with many interesting adventures 
during the years I have been wander- 
ing about the world ; and I have no 
objection to gratify your curiosity 
by relating some of them. Indeed, 
without vanity, I think I may say, that 
my extensive travels have given me a 
knowledge of men and things, not pos- 
sessed by every one ; and I am happy 


to have the opportunity of communi- 
cating the information thus obtained — 
hoping it may prove useful to some 
who, hereafter, may have the disposal 
of me. 

“I have only an imperfect recollec- 
tion of my earlier history ; but I well 
remember that I had not been long in 
the world, before I was convinced that 
I was destined to be the instrument, 
both of much good and of much evil ; a 
conclusion which has been strength- 
ened by my whole subsequent history. 
To commence with the first incident 
which occurs to me. One new-year’s 
day, I was transferred from the pocket 
of an aged gentleman to that of his 
grandson, as a new-year’s gift. We 
were soon in the street ; my young 
friend, passing slowly along, appa- 
rently considering what disposition he 
should make of me. We paused for a 
moment before a window, where were 
displayed many tempting articles in the 
toy and confectionery line. I thought 
my fate was sealed ; but we passed on. 
We soon came to another shop of a 
similar description, where my young 
friend was met by a lad of his own age, 
who accosted him by saying, ‘ Let us 
go in here, Henry, and buy something.’ 

‘ Not now, George ; I don’t wish to 
purchase any thing here.’ ‘ Why not? 
Have you not been furnished with 
spending money to-day?’ ‘Oh, yes; 
but I have determined to spend it for 
another purpose. Confectionery soon 
melts in one’s mouth ; and as for toys, 
I tire of them, after I have had them a 
short time.’ ‘ How, then, shall you 
spend your money ?’ ‘ I intend to pur- 

chase a book with it.’ ‘ A book ? 
Nonsense ! We have enough of books 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


335 


at school ; come, go in with me.’ ‘ No, 
George, I have made up my mind ; so 
good-bye.’ 

“ We proceeded to the bookstore ; 
here Henry was somewhat at a loss 
which to choose among so many books ; 
but his teacher coming in just then, 
assisted him to select a valuable one, 
which he carried home with great sa- 
tisfaction. As it had been purchased 
with his own money, Henry thought it 
would be a pity not to get his penny’s 
worth out of it. So he read it with 
great attention. By this means, a 
strong desire for intellectual improve- 
ment took possession of his mind. Pro- 
ceeding from step to step, he at length, 
by his powerful intellect and command- 
ing talents, has risen to a station of 
great importance and influence ; yet he 
distinctly traces his present enviable 
position, to the disposition he made of 
his new-year’s gift. 

“ On another occasion, I found my- 
self in the pocket of a clerk in the city 

of New York. William S had 

just come from the country; and amid 
the thronging multitude of a great cijy, 
he was alone. Separated from all he 
had known and loved, he felt a sense of 
loneliness, and an aching void, which 
he must seek to fill with something. 
Under the influence of these feelings, 
he determined to visit the theatre — 
‘just for once.’ Conscience told him it 
was wrong ; and as he drew me forth 
to obtain his ticket, the sudden thought 
of his mother and sister at home made 
him blush. Ah! when a young man 
blushes to think of a pious mother or 
sister, he may know that he is purchas- 
ing a ticket for admission to the high- 
way that leads to destruction. This 


was the first time William S ever 

attended the theatre ; but it was not the 
last. He was soon plunged in a 
course of dissipation, and is now the 
inmate of a penitentiary. 

“ Not long after, I found myself in 
the possession of a youthful female, in 
the humbler walks of life. I heard her 
observe to a companion, ‘I intend to 
purchase a couple of books, that I have 
seen advertised, with this money. 
Books are so cheap, in these days, 
that I do not see why we may not treat 
ourselves to one now and then, as well 
as those who are richer.’ I was pleas- 
ed with this determination, for I had 
ofien had occasion to remark the salu- 
tary effect of a valuable book'upon the 
mind and heart of the youthful reader. 
But I soon learned that between a good 
and a bad book there was the greatest 
possible difference ; and while the for- 
mer exerts a powerful influence for 
good, the latter is still more potent in 
the production of evil. The book 
chosen by my young friend was of the 
latter class. Had the pompous adver- 
tisements, which unfortunately arrest- 
ed her attention, been translated into 
the sober language of truth, they would 
have read much as follows : ‘ This 
book, from the pen of the popular au- 
thor , disrobes vice of every 

repulsive aspect — represents the man 
whose crimes are of the darkest dye, as 
a noble hero, untrarfimeled by narrow- 
minded prejudice — sneers at moral 
principle, the noblest element of hu- 
man character, as bigotry and intoler- 
ance — and in proportion to its influence 
over the mind of the reader, unfits him 
to take just views of life, or to grapple 
with its stern realities. All this amount 


336 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


of moral poison may be had at the low 
rate of twenty-five cents.’ I shrink 
from detailing the fatal consequences 
which resulted to my young friend from 
the perusal of these works. It is suffi- 
cient to say, that but for their perusal, 
she might have been what she now is 
not — respected and virtuous. 

“ Sometime after this, I found my- 
self in the possession of a pious mother, 
in somewhat straitened circumstances. 
To my surprise, I was carefully laid 
aside for a considerable time, till I 
came to the conclusion that I was re- 
served to act my part on some import- 
ant occasion. Nor was I mistaken. 
After a time, her only son began to 
make preparations to leave home, for 
the purpose of seeking his fortune in 
the world. He was a giddy youth, 
and had given but little heed to the 
prayers and instructions of his pious 
mother. The day previous to his de- 
parture, his mother drew me from the 
place where I had been safely deposit- 
ed, and taking me to the village store, 
inquired for a Bible. I saw the tear 
moisten her eye, as she handed me out 
in exchange for the volume she had 
selected. The still, twilight hour, was 
chosen as the time to present her gift. 
Placing it in the hands of her son, she 
said to him, with a voice tremulous 
with emotion, ‘ My dear son, take this 
as a parting gift — make it the man of 
your counsel, and the guide of your 
youth. You will be exposed to all the 
snares and temptations of a city life, 
and I shall not be near to warn you of 
danger; but heed the counsels here 
given, and you will be saved from 
every snare.’ The youth was soon far 
away from his country home ; but the 


Bible given under these affecting cir- 
cumstances, and the parting words that 
accompanied it, were not forgotten. 
He was saved from guilt and sorrow. 

“ I will not tax your patience by re- 
lating other incidents of my eventful 
career. One of the conditions of my 
being, which I have often lamented, 
has been the inability to give a word of 
advice, when greatly needed by those 
who have owned me. Could I convey a 
just idea of the consequences which have 
followed the proper or improper dispo- 
sal of me, by the various persons into 
whose hands I have fallen, I am confi- 
dent that none of my future possessors 
would be willing to incur the responsi- 
bility of dismissing me from their hands 
for improper objects.” M. 


The Orphan Boy. 

“ He faded, yet so calm and meek, 

So gently wan, so sweetly weak.” 

f HE bustle of the fight was over ; 
the prisoners had been secured, 
and the decks washed down, the 
watch piped, and the schooner 
had once more relapsed into midnight 
quiet and repose. I sought my ham- 
mock, and soon fell asleep. But my 
slumbers were disturbed by wild 
dreams, which, like the visions of a 
fever, agitated and unnerved me ; the 
late strife, the hardships of my early 
life, and a thousand other things min- 
gled together as figures in a phantas- 
magoria. Suddenly a hand was laid 
upon my shoulder, and starting up, I 
beheld the surgeon’s mate. 

“ Little Dick, sir, is dying,” he said. 
At once I sprang from my hammock. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


337 


Little Dick was a sort of protege of 
mine. He was a pale, delicate child, 
said to be an orphan, and used to gen- 
tle nurture ; and from the first hour I 
joined the schooner, my heart yearned 
toward him, for I too had once been 
friendless and alone in the world. He 
had often talked to me in confidence, 
of his mother, whose memory he re- 
garded with holy reverence, while to 
the other boys of the ship he had little 
to say ; for they were rude and coarse, 
he delicate and sensitive. Often when 
they jeered him for his melancholy, he 
would go apart by himself and weep. 
He never complained of his lot, though 
his companions imposed on him contin- 
ually. Poor lad ! his heart was in the 
grave with his lost parents. 

I took a strange interest in him, and 
had lightened his task as much as pos- 
sible. During the late fight I had 
owed my life to him, for he rushed in 
just as a sabre stroke was leveled at 
me, and by interposing his feeble cut- 
lass, had averted the deadly blow. In 
the hurry and confusion since, I had 
quite forgotten to inquire if he was 
hurt, though, at the time, I inwardly 
resolved to exert all my little influence 
to procure him a midshipman’s war- 
rant, in requital for his service. It 
was with a pang of reproachful agony, 
therefore, that I leaped to my feet and 
exclaimed, “ You don’t mean it ? He 
is not dying ?” 

“ I fear, sir,” said the messenger, 
shaking his head sadly, “ that he can- 
not live till morning.” 

“ And I have been lying idle here !” 
I exclaimed, with remorse. “ Lead me 
to him !” 

“ He is delirious, but in the intervals 


of lunacy, asks for you, sir and as 
the man spoke, we stood beside the bed- 
side of the dying boy. 

The sufferer did not lie in his usual 
hammock, for it was hung in the very 
midst of the crew, and the close air 
around it was too stifling ; but he had 
been carried under the open hatch- 
way, and laid there in a little open 
space of about four feet square. From 
the sound of the ripples, I judged 
the schooner was in motion, while the 
clear, calm, blue sky, seen through the 
opening overhead, and dotted with my- 
riads of stars, betokened that the fog 
had broken away. How calm it smiled 
down on the wan face of the dying boy. 
Occasionally a current of wind — oh ! 
how deliciously cool in that pent-up 
hold — eddied down the hatchway, and 
lifted the dark chestnut locks of the 
sufferer, as with' his head reposing in 
the lap of an old veteran, he lay in an 
unquiet slumber. His shirt collar was 
unbuttoned, and his childish bosom, as 
white as that of a girl, was opened and 
exposed. He breathed quick and hea- 
vily. The wound of which he was 
dying, had been intensely painful, but 
within the last half hour had somewhat 
lulled, though even now his thin fingers 
tightly grasped the bed-clothes, as if he 
suffered the greatest agony. 

A battle-stained and gray-haired sea- 
man stood beside him, holding a dull 
lantern in his hand, and gazing sorrow- 
fully down upon the sufferer. The 
surgeon knelt with his finger on the 
boy’s pulse. As I approached, they all 
looked up. The veteran who held him 
shook his head, and would have spoken, 
but the tears gathered too chokingly in 
his eyes. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


338 

The surgeon said, “ He is going 
fast — poor little fellow — do you see 
this ?” As he spoke he lifted up a 
rich gold locket, which had laid upon 
the boy’s breast. “ He has seen better 
days.” 

I could not answer, for my heart was 
full. Here was the being to whom, 
but a few hours before, I had owed my 
life — a poor, fraill, unprotected child — 
lying before me, with death already 
written on his brow ; and yet I ' had 
never known his danger, and never 
sought him out after the conflict. How 
bitterly my heart reproached me in 
that hour. They noticed my agitation, 
and his old friend — the seaman that 
held his head — said sadly, “ Poor little 
Dick — you’ll never see the shore you 
have wished for so long. But there’ll 
be more than one” — he spoke with 
emotion — “to mourn over you.” 

Suddenly the little fellow opened his 
eyes, and looked vacantly around. 

“ Has he come yet ?” he asked in a 
low voice. “ Why won’t he come ?” 

“ I am here,” said I, taking the little 
fellow’s hand ; “ don’t you know me, 
Dick ?” 

He smiled faintly in my face. He 
then said, “You have been kind to me, 
sir — kinder than most people are to a 
poor orphan boy. I have no way to 
show my gratitude, unless you will 
take the Bible you will find in my 
trunk. It’s a small offering, I know, 
but it’s all I have.” 

I burst into tears — he resumed : 

“ Doctor, I am dying, ain’t I ?” 
said the little fellow, “ for my sight 
grows dim. God bless you, Mr. Dan- 
forth.” 

“ Can I do nothing for you, Dick ?” 


said I ; “ you saved my life. I would 
coin my blood to buy yours.” 

“I have nothing to ask — I don’t 
want to live — only, ^f it’s possible, let 
me buried by mother — you’ll find the 
name of the place, and all about it, in 
my trunk.” 

“ Any thing, every thing, my poor 
lad,” I answered, chokingly. 

The little fellow smiled faintly — it. 
was like an angel’s smile — but he did 
not answer. His mind wandered. 

“ It’s a long, long way up there — 
but there are bright angels among 
them. Mother used to say that I 
would meet her there. How near they 
come, and I see sweet faces smiling on 
me from among them. Hark ! is that 
music ?” and, lifting his finger, he 
seemed listening for a moment. He 
fell back, and the old veteran burst 
into tears. The child was dead. Did 
he indeed hear angels’ voices ? God 
grant it. — Selected. 


Facts to be Remembered. 

« ur friend Burleigh, the editor of 
the Charter Oak, tells the follow- 
ing story about a town which he 
visited in Massachusetts : “ There 
have been in the town, since its incor- 
poration, thirty-eight taverners. Of 
these, three died of delirium tremens ; 
seven became intemperate ; one died in 
the poor-house ; eighteen lost all their 
property ; seventeen did not improve 
their pecuniary condition by the busi- 
ness ; three only acquired property ; 
four were cursed with intemperate 
wives ; twenty-five sons and four 
daughters became intemperate !” 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


339 


Familiar Conversations on Botany. 

BY THEODORE THINKER. 

NUMBER VI. 

heodore. Well, my. little friends, 
what shall we talk about next ? 
Perhaps you have got tired of 
the subject of trees, by this time. 
I should not wonder at all if you had. 
We have had a number of conversa- 
tions about them. 

George. No, Mr. Thinker, I don’t 
believe any of us are tired of the sub- 
ject. I am sure I am not. But I 
would like to ask a question here, if 
you have no objection. 

Emma. And I want to ask one, too, 
Mr. Thinker. 

T. Well, one at a time, if you 
please. George, what is your ques- 
tion ? 

G. It seems there is a great differ- 
ence in the age and size of different 
species of trees. Is there any way in 
which we can tell whether a tree or 
any other vegetable is long-lived or 
short-lived, by the looks of it? 

T. I don’t know that I exactly un- 
derstand your question, George. Let 
me see if I do. There are two great 
divisions of plants that have flowers. 
The plants of one of these divisions 
live a great while, and those of the 
other are, comparatively, short-lived. 
Do you wish to know how to distin- 
guish them ? 

G. Yes, sir. But this is only a 
part of what I want to know. 

T. Aye, I see what you want. 
You would like to know every thing at 
once. Not too fast, my dear George. 
I can’t let you into all the secrets of 


Botany in a half hour. But I will tell 
you something about the plants that 
are usually short-lived, and those 
which live longer. 

Josephine. Mr. Thinker,, can we 
tell how old any plant is by cutting it 
crosswise ? Do they all have rings 
like the trees we have been talking 
about ? 

T. No, there are thousands of herbs 
and shrubs that have no such layers. 
There are some trees, too, that are des- 
titute of them ; and we can only guess 
at the age of such plants, unless we 
remember how long they have been 
growing, or unless we compare their 
size with other plants of the same spe- 
cies whose ages we are acquainted 
with. 

J. Why don’t wheat and rye grow 
till they become trees ? 

G. I can answer that question. 
Because the frost kills them. 

T. That is not the reason, George. 
The stalk of the different species of 
grain becomes yellow and almost life- 
less, long enough before the frost 
comes. The vegetable kingdom, ac- 
cording to the 'natural system of Jus- 
sieu, is divided into two races: first, 
plants that have no flowers, and se- 
condly, plants with flowers. Those 
belonging to the first division are near- 
ly all short-lived. The ferns, mosses, 
toad-stools, liverworts, belong here. 
They are the lowest forms of vegeta- 
tion. 

The flowering plants are again sub- 
divided into two groups. The first 
comprises those plants the seeds of 
which have but one lobe. When the 
young plant comes up out of the earth 
it has but one leaf. The second 



340 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


has two seed-lobes, and as it rises 
from the ground, it has two or more 
appendages somewhat resembling its 
leaves, which are in reality only the 
lobes of the seed, divided. At first, 
these appendages, or false leaves, are 
yellow or white ; but, gradually, they 
become green, and perform the office 
of leaves in digesting the food of the 
plant. When the true leaves appear, 
however, these false ones wither and 
fall off. Botanists call these embryo 


leaves cotyledons. Plants that in 
their infancy exhibit only one cotyle- 
don, are monocotyledons. Those that 
have two are dicotyledons. 

E. These are pretty hard words, 
Mr. Thinker. 

T. So they are ; but I did not make 
them. 

G. You use them, though. 

T. Well, it seems to be desirable 
that you should learn some of the tech- 
nical words used in Botany. I shall 



THE LION ALOE— AN ENDOGEN. 


not trouble you with a great many, 
however. Now the plants with one 
cotyledon, when they grow up, increase 
in diameter, not by separate layers of 
wood and bark, but by a gradual ex- 
tension or pushing out of the old fibres. 

J. What are some of the plants that 
grow in this way ? 

T. The wheat and rye are speci- 
mens. So are Indian corn, and the 
canes which we use for fishing rods. 
Now as they increase in diameter, as 


it were, from within, or from the cir- 
cumference toward the centre, they 
are called by a Greek word signifying 
an inside grower. The Greek word 
is Endogen. These plants are neces- 
sarily comparatively small and short- 
lived; for,, increasing as they do, by 
pressing the fibres outward, which 
hardens the outside, by and by the 
plant must stop growing. It cannot 
produce new layers on the outside, and 
it becomes so hard that it can no longer 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


341 


extend by the pressure from within. 
All endogens are short-lived, on this 
account. Many tropical plants are en- 
dogens. 

The century plant, of which I told 
you something a year ago, is a remark- 
able specimen of this structure. The 
Aloe, which resembles it somewhat, is 
another. I have had an engraving 
prepared for you. This is also a tro- 
pical plant. It grows near the equator. 


The other great division of flowering 
plants have two seed-lobes, or cotyle- 
dons, and increase in diameter by suc- 
cessive layers. These, on account of 
the manner of their growth, are called 
exogens, or outside growers. Near- 
ly all the trees belong to this division. 
As plants of this description grow by 
forming new layers of wood, there is 
scarcely any limit to their growth. 
The tree may become dead at the 



BRANCH OF THE OLIVE-TREE— AN EXOGEN. 


heart, as an old tree frequently does, 
but it goes on increasing in size just 
the same. Every year there is a new 
circle formed by another layer of wood. 

G. But, Mr. Thinker,* if a tree is 
rotten at the heart, I should think it 
would not be so healthy. I am sure 
the sap cannot circulate so abundantly. 

T. You are mistaken. Have I 
ever told you through what part of the 
wood the sap goes up ? 

G. No, sir, I think not* 


T. Well, the sap goes up through 
the new layers of wood, and never 
through the heart-wood. The new 
wood, by the way, is called the albur- 
num, and the heart- wood the duramen. 

J. But does not the sap circulate 
downward through the duramen, as 
you call it ? 

T. No, the sap does not proceed 
downward through any part of the 
wood. It descends through the inner 
layer of bark, the layer next the wood. 


342 


THE YOUTH'S CABINET. 


The preceding plant is an exogen. It 
is not the whole tree, but only a branch 
of it. It is a branch of the Olive 
Tree. The olive grows in warm cli- 
mates. The tree, as you are aware, 
grows abundantly in Palestine. There 
is a spot near Jerusalem, called the 
Mount of Olives, on which there is a 
large number of these trees. This spot 
must be dear to every one who loves 
Christ, from the fact, that while he 
was on earth, he frequently visited it. 
The olive sometimes attains a very 
great age. There are eight olive-trees 
now growing in Jerusalem, which are 
proved to have been there previous to 
the taking of that city by the Turks. 
Of course they must be at least eight 
hundred years old. 

J. I don’t see but all plants which 
live to be old must be trees, as a mat- 
ter of course. 

T. No ; there are some exogens 
which live a great many years, and yet 
they do not become trees* 

J. How do they grow, then ? 

T. They don’t grow in diameter 
all the time. They send out great 
numbers of branches, and increase in 
this way. The rose-bush, for instance, 
will live many yea^s, and still be no- 
thing but a shrub, though it accumu- 
lates vast quantities of wood in the form 
of branches. There is said to be a 
damask rose-bush, near Bristol, in the 
State of Pennsylvania, which is known 
to be more than a hundred years old, 
having been planted before the year 
1743. 

G. Are beans endogens ? 

T. No. 

G. But they never live but one 
season. 


T. True. I did not mean to be un- 

♦ 

derstood that all exogens are long-lived, 
but that endogens, from their very struc- 
ture, must all be short-lived, and all the 
plants which attain considerable age 
must belong to the group called exogens. 
But, George, you could have easily told 
whether the bean was an endogen or 
an exogen, without asking me ? 

G. Yes, by cutting it crosswise, 
and seeing if there were layers of wood 
in circles. 

T. No, that would not tell you. 
These circles are formed only once a 
year, you know ; and as the bean never 
grows more than one year, it cannot 
have these circles. 

G. How could I find out, then ? 

J. I can tell. 

T. Well, how is it, Josephine ? 

J. Why, you said, Mr. Thinker, 
that all plants with two cotyledons 
were exogens. 

T. True ; but how did you know 
that the bean is a dicotyledon ? 

J. Because I have seen it coming 
up out of the ground, and it always has 
two miniature leaves at first. The 
other day, Margaret, my mother’s cook, 
came running into the house to tell us 
that a bean she had been planting had 
come up wrong end foremost. She 
was very much distressed about it, and 
said she had just been taking it up and 
putting the other end of the foolish 
thing down in the ground where it 
belonged. 

T. Well, did it grow again ? 

J. No, sir, it died. 

T. I have not a doubt of it. Mar- 
garet will do well to let her beans have 
their own way next time. They are a 
little obstinate about some things. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


343 


Witchcraft at Home and Abroad* 

NUMBER III. 


hen the excitement about witch- 
craft was at its highest point, in 
England, there were certain 
men who devoted themselves 
especjally to finding witches. They 
made a regular trade of it, and so were 
called witch-finders. A man, by the 
name of Matthew Hopkins, seems to 
have been a leader of this class. He 
traveled all over the country, in search 
of those supposed to be possessed of an 
evil spirit. The means he resorted to, 
and which were approved by the wise 
and good, might excite laughter, if they 
were not too frightful. Whenever 
Hopkins visited a place, he exacted a 
fee of twenty shillings ; and, for this 
sum, he engaged to clear the commu- 
nity of witches. The first thing to be 
accomplished, in examining a suspected 
person, was to find the mark which the 
witch received from the evil one. In 
order to find this mark, Hopkins re- 
sorted to all the ingenuity of which he 
was capable. He often thrust pins 
into the flesh of the suspected ones, to 
make them confess. He wrapped them 
in sheets, with the great toes and 
thumbs tied together, and dragged them 
through ponds or rivers. Then, if 
they sunk, it was held as a sign that 
the waters did not reject them ; and as 
water is the element used in baptism, 
they were regarded as pure, and were 
cleared. But, if the poor creatures 
floated, as they usually would do, at 
at least, for a time, they were declared 

* Continued from page 293. 

11 * 


guilty, and doomed to suffer death. 
Sometimes this wretch kept the victims 
of his zeal awake for forty-eight hours, 
and allowed them no food, as an induce- ' 
ment to make them confess. They 
were often glad to escape from life, to 
avoid the cruel tortures he imposed 
upon them. If a person could not 
shed tears at command, or missed a 
word in reciting the Lord’s Prayer, 
according to the creed of Professor 
Hopkins, he was certainly in league 
with the devil. It was Hopkins, doubt- 
less, who is alluded to in Hudibras 

“ Fully prepared to treat about 
Finding revolted witches out ; 

And has he not, within this year, 

Hanged three score of them in one shire, 
Some only for not being drowned, 

And some for sitting above ground ? ” 

However, the tide finally set against 
this Hopkins. He was obliged, one 
day, by a party of indignant men, to 
try his own favorite" test upon himself. 
He was thrown into the rivef*. Ac- 
cording to his own theory, he ought to 
have been hung ; for he escaped : the 
water rejected him. But those who 
gave him the ducking were satisfied 
with the joke, when they saw him reach 
the shore ; and, with rather more mer- 
cy than usually falls to the lot of a 
mob, they let him go. But his history 
ceases here. He was never heard of 
again. 

During the era of the Long Parlia- 
ment, three thousand persons are said 
to have perished on the charge of 
witchcraft. Sir Matthew Hale, one of 

t 



344 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


the most enlightened men of his time, 
whose memory is now held in great re- 
spect, once tried and condemned two 
women for the crime of bewitching 
children, and similar offences. One of 
the charges against these old women, 
which was proved in court, we must 
mention. It is characteristic of many. 
They wanted to buy some herrings of 
a dealer in fish — he refused to sell — 
they gave him some exhibition of their 
powers of scolding, and left him. But, 
mark ! the fish-monger’s child was soon 
after taken sick ; and the old women 
bewitched the child, of course ! An- 
other crime, of which one of these 
women was found guilty, was, stop- 
ping the wagon of a cartman. The 
man drove his cart against the house of 
the woman ; she was angry, and im- 
mediately after, the man tried to go 
through a gate ; but his cart stuck fast, 
without touching either post. It was in 
vain the poor woman attempted to clear 
herself of the charge of bewitching the 
cart She was condemned, and so was 
her companion. Sir Matthew Hale 
turned them both over to the hangman ! 
This was in 1664. 

As late as 1711, Chief Justice Pow- 
ell presided at a trial, where a woman 
was found guilty. The judge, how- 
ever, turned the whole thing into ridi- 
cule. He asked the jury if they found 
the woman ‘‘guilty upon the indict- 
ment of conversing with the devil in 
the shape of a cat?” They replied, 
“We do find her guilty of that.” The 
woman was pardoned. 

The writer in the Foreign Quarterly 
Review, to whom we have before al- 
luded, as the author of the article from 
which most of our facts are drawn, re- 


marks, after noticing the last case : 
“Yet, frightful to think, after all this, 
as late as 1716, Mrs. Hicks, and her 
daughter, aged nine years, were hang- 
ed, at Huntingdon, for selling their souls 
to the devil, and raising a storm by 
pulling off their stockings and making 
a lather of soap! With this crowning 
atrocity, the catalogue of murders in 
England closes.” 

It was time it had closed. It was a 
long and a black one. Barrington, a 
man who has devoted much attention to 
the subject, does not hesitate to estimate 
the number of those who were mu. v ier- 
ed, in England, on the charge of witch- 
craft, at thirty thousand ! 

We might follow the imaginary de- 
mon over to this side of the Atlantic, 
and glance at the history of his mis- 
deeds in New England. But that is 
scarcely necessary. The chronicles 
of witchcraft among the Puritans are 
pretty well understood. There have 
always been historians ready to abuse 
New England. If, however, those on- 
ly whose ancestors, in the seventeenth 
century, were without sin in the mat- 
ter of witchcraft, should cast the first 
stones, New England would escape 
some pelting which she will otherwise 
have to suffer, as she has frequently 
suffered already. 


Some people are so constituted, that 
there is a very small inlet by which 
other people’s wit can get access to 
their brain ; and you have to convince 
them, by argument, that there is # a cer- 
tain joke to be laughed at. That is 
dull business . — Theodore Thinker. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


345 



Building and Launching Ships. 


t EADER, would you like to know 
how ships are built, and launch- 
ed from the dry dock into the 
water ? If you would, we in- 
tend to give you a chance. The Lon- 
don Juvenile Library has given us 
some valuable information on the sub- 
ject, and we shall take the liberty of 
drawing pretty freely from that article. 
The pictures which we have had en- 
graved will assist you in understanding 
the description. 

At the commencement of building a 
ship, the proportional size of every part 
is laid down by the ship-draftsman, 
who prepares drawings of the vessel in 
various points of view, which represent 
the dimensions, not merely of the ves- 
sel itself, but of the principal timbers 
composing it, with their curves and 
angles carefully defined. These draw- 
ings are generally on a scale of a quar- 
ter of an inch to the ‘foot, and from 
them, on the floor of the mould-loft, 
the draftsman chalks outlines of the 
timbers enlarged to the size of the 
vessel. 

Thin pieces of pine board are then 
cut, and fitted. accurately to the numer- 
ous curvatures of the lines. These 


pieces of board, called moulds, or 
moulding pieces, are used as patterns 
by the sawyers, to cut the oak timbers 
for the ship. In preparing the timbers, 
great care and judgment are required, 
as the wood must be chosen, not only 
to avoid waste, but that the grain of the 
wood may be cut across as little as pos- 
sible, as it greatly weakens the timber ; 
crooked trunks are therefore chosen for 
the curved timbers. 

The building slip is a piece of land 
dug out rather wider than the ship to 
be built, and is at right angles with and 
sloping toward the river. The upper 
part is level with the ground ; but the 
lower is several feet below it, opening 
to the river, with gates to shut out the 
water. The timbers, when properly 
shaped by the sawyer, are removed to 
the building slip, where a row of blocks 
is placed, on which the ship is to be 
formed. They are ranged five or six 
feet apart, and the upper parts of them 
adjusted to form a straight line, inclin- 
ing toward the river. If we compare 
the hull of a ship to the skeleton of the 
human body, the keel may be consider- 
ed as the spine, and the timbers as ribs. 
The keel, being the principal part of 


346 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


the vessel, and the one above all others 
requiring strength and solidity, it is the 
first laid down on the blocks. It is 
made of elm, and is too long, except in 
small vessels, • for a single tree to form 
it ; two or more pieces are, therefore, 
united, or “ scarfed,” as it is termed. 
For ships of a thousand tons burden, 
the keel is about one hundred and forty 
feet long, fourteen inches wide, and 
fifteen deep. 

The sides and ends of the keel are 
grooved and cut, to receive the differ- 
ent timbers and pieces of wood forming 
the frame- work of the hull. Two of 
these timbers form the main support of 
the vessel, and are called the stem and 
the stern ; the first curves up from the 
higher end of the keel, and the latter 
rises nearly perpendicularly from the 
lower end — a ship being always built 
with the stem toward the water. Both 
of these timbers are formed of oak, and 
are fastened in a most substantial man- 
ner. To the stem-post are attached 
transoms, fashion pieces, etc., the shape 
of which, w'hen fixed, gives the elegant 
curve to the stem of the vessel ; to the 
stem, other pieces are fastened to se- 
cure it to the keel and to the timbers 
forming the hull, while others form a 
support for the end of the bowsprit. 
These heavy pieces of timber are haul- 
ed up to their places by strong pulleys, 
and ropes, and are shored up by poles 
from the ground to keep them steady. 

The ribs of the ship are of too great 
a size to be formed of one piece, and 
therefore each rib is built up of sepa- 
rate pieces, the name of which is “ fut- 
tocks.” These pieces are placed, 
some end to end, and others side by 
side, in such a manner that the joint of 


two ends of timber may have a support 
of solid timber at its side. The ribs 
rise to different and irregular heights, 
to adjust afterward ; and the opposite 
sides are supported by temporary wood- 
en braces, or “cross-spalls,” which are 
nailed to them. The form of the hull 
is thus given in a rough manner. The 
keel, the stem-post, and the stern, form 
the three great supports of the frame of 
the vessel ; the first horizontal, the se- 
cond rising upright from one end, and 
the third curving up from the other. 
Among the timbers, which are after- 
ward added to the vessel, are three, 
called the “ keel-row,” the “ stem- 
row,” and the “ stern-row,” which are 
interior representatives of those just 
named. The “keel-row” is fixed on 
the floor timbers immediately over the 
keel, and forms the part on which the 
blocks to support the masts are placed ; 
it is' secured by bolts, which pass 
through it and the keel. The “stern- 
row” and “ stem-row” give internal 
support to the ends of the ship. The 
whole of the frame is braced together 
by “riders,” formed of wood or iron, 
which cross several of the timbers, and 
are bolted to each. The frame thus 
formed is covered with planks, laid in 
a horizontal direction, and from three 
to six inches thick. They are formed 
of oak, and are frequently thirty feet 
long. They are firmly bolted to the 
timbers, and the slight spaces between 
them are filled with oakum (made of 
old cables pulled to shreds, and formed 
into a kind of loose rope about an inch 
in thickness), which is driven in to a 
depth equal to the thickness of the 
planks. The whole is then covered 
with hot melted pitch and rosin, and 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


347 


rendered completely water tight. The 
outside of the vessel being completed, 
the interior is divided into compart- 
ments, according to the purposes the 
ship is intended for. The decks, port- 
holes, and magazine of a man-of-war, 
require different arrangements from 
those of a merchant vessel. 

The launching of a ship takes place 
before the hull has been sheathed or 
coated with copper ; and also, before 
the masts, yards, bowsprit, rudder, 
ropes, and sails are fitted ; as the height 


of the vessel from the ground in the 
building slip, the angle at which it 
slopes to the water, and the difficulty 
in getting into the vessel, render it 
more convenient after than before, it is 
deemed 'better to postpone the sheathing 
until the soundness of the bare plank- ^ 
ing has been tested by immersion in 
the water. As we before explained, 
the ship is built on a row of blocks 
sloping toward the water ; these blocks 
form a central support to the vessel 
during its construction, and it is further 



A SHIP JUST AFTER LAUNCHING. 


supported by poles placed against the 
sides. As the time for launching ap- 
proaches, these supports are removed, 
and two “ slippery paths” are formed, 
down which the vessel may glide to the 
water. These operations require great 
nicety and skill to ensure success. 
Along the building slip on each side of 
the keel, and about one sixth of the 
vessel’s width from it, is laid an inclin- 
ed platform of wood, raised several feet 
from the ground, and supported by 
blocks, with a flat upper surface^ in- 
clining toward the river, but more 


sloping than the keel ; this is called the 
“sliding-plank.” On this* is 'laid a 
long timber, called a “bilge- way,” 
with a smooth under surface, and upon 
this timber is raised a frame-work, 
reaching up to the hull ; this frame- 
work is called the “cradle.” Between 
the “ bilge-way” and the “sliding- 
plank,” a quantity of soap, tallow, and 
oil is laid, to diminish the friction dur- 
ing the sliding of the former. 

It is necessary that the hull should be 
raised from the blocks under the keel, 
and supported by the “ cradle.” This 


348 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


is effected by driving wedges under the 
“ bilge-way,” a hundred men being 
frequently employed, who, at a signal, 
drive at the same moment a hundred 
wedges. When the vessel is thus sup- 
ported by the “ bilge- ways” and “ slid- 
ing-planks,” she would be likely to 
slide down to the water of herself, if 
not prevented by a piece of wood, call- 
ed a “ dog-shore,” which is fitted to the 
upper end of each “ bilge- way.” The 
arrangements being completed, two 
men knock away the “ dog-shores” at a 
given signal ; the vessel glides slowly 
downward into the waters ; sometimes 
while she is sliding down, she is de- 
signated with the name chosen for her, 
and on her touching the water, all give 
a hearty cheer. 


Snakes in Australia. 

S have met with several of these 
animals, and witnessed many won- 
derful and narrow escapes. A 
friend, who had been out shooting 
for some hours, coming home tired, 
without thought or reflection, was on 
the point of throwing himself on a 
stretcher to rest, when he was sud- 
denly pulled back by a bystander, 
who had observed a tremendous brown 
snake coiled up on the opossum cloak. 
He was horrified, but providentially 
saved. The snake, of course, was 
soon dispatched. 

i Another friend, on a cruise, put his 
die down for a pillow at night, as 
usual, and on lifting up the saddle-flaps 
the next morning, he observed a deaf 
adder lying flat down. He soon drop- 


ped the saddle, and killed the snake. 
While giving our horses water one f day, 
my cousin saw a black snake, half in 
and half out of the water : he shot it, 
and put it on an ant-hill to watch 
the ants at work. While so engaged, 
its mate came at us, passing over 
my instep, in a state of great excite- 
ment : it was also shot. On going 
over the Main Range, a deaf adder 
was observed creeping on a poor 
quail, which crouched on the ground 
fascinated; we allowed the poor bird 
to fall a victim, and then struck at 
the adder. The blow did not take 
effect, and the reptile sprang three 
feet at my friend, who escaped un- 
hurt. The adder was subsequently 
killed. 

Being one day encamped on the 
Main Range, for the purpose of cut- 
ting bark, with my brother and a 
friend, I had to go down to a little 
water hole to fill the quart pots for 
tea. While stooping down to my 
task, an enormous black snake slid 
down the bank, quacking and hiss- 
ing. Before I could recover from 
my fright, he had passed over my 
arm, and up the opposite bank. I 
was too much terrified to shoot at 
him, though I had my gun at my 
side. Two more instances will suf- 
fice. A little girl, daughter of a 
friend of mine, playing on the ve- 
randah, was on the point of picking 
up what she thought a varnished 
piece of wood, so flat and straight 
was it extended, when her father 
called her back. The snake (for such 
it turned out to be), basking in the 
sun, proved to be a large diamond 
snake, about nine feet long. I was 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


349 


sitting with my sister, after the child- 
ren were put to bed, and having 
heard that a snake had been seen 
in the house during the day, we 
were frightened. While engaged in 
conversation, we heard noises of 
“ Cah, cah, cah,” issuing from the 
rafters and shingles ; and, to our 
horror, beheld a nasty yellow snake 
hanging down over our heads, as if 
about to spring upon us. Up we 
started ; a gun was soon brought to 
bear upon him, and he fell down. 
I found two mice inside of him, for 
which, no doubt, he had visited us. — 
Selected. 


Evil Company. 

||y|$kHE following beautiful allegory, 
from the German, was translat- 
m ed — we think for the Home Ma- 
^ gazine — by our excellent contri- 
butor, Mrs. St. Simon : 

Sophronius, a wise teacher, would 
not suffer even his grown up sons and 
daughters to associate with those whose 
conduct was not pure and upright. 

“ Dear father,” said the gentle Eu- 
lalia to him one day, when he forbade 
her, in company with her brother, to 
visit the volatile Lucinda, “dear fa- 
ther, you must think us very childish 
if you imagine that we would be ex- 
posed to danger by it.” 

The father took in silence a dead 
coal from the hearth, and reached it to 
his daughter. “ It will not burn you, 
my child, take it.” 

Eulalia did so, and behold her deli- 
cate white hand was soiled and black- 
ened, and as it chanced, her white 
dress also. 


“We cannot be too careful in hand- 
ling coals,” said Eulalia, in vexa- 
tion. 

“ Yes, truly,” said her father ; “you 
see, my child, * that coals, even if they 
do not burn, blacken. So it is with 
the company of the vicious.” 


The Treasures of Earth. 

BT MISS L. LINWOOD. 

There are precious gems iu the ocean’s bed ; 

There’s wealth in the treasured mine ; 

And jewels lie deep, ’neath the dark sea-weed, 
That were meet for a brighter shrine. 

Rare flowers oft bloom, where the forest shade 
Shuts out the beams of day ; 

Where no print, save the hoof of the lurking 
beast, 

Ever tracked the lonely way. 

It is not station that bestows 
The dignity of worth ; 

The flower that wears the truest grace, 

Bends lowliest to the earth. 

It is not honor, fame, or power, 

Or wealth, or lofty place, 

But firm integrity of heart 
Alone, that gives true grace. 

There’s a jewel that full oft lies hid, 

Like pearls beneath the sea, 

More priceless than a glittering toy, 

Or a sparkling gem may be. 

A jewel that will never dim, 

Though moon and stars should fade ; 

Nor borrows any brilliancy, 

From aught that hands have made. 

A jewel that will grace the brow— 

A precious name — ’tis Truth ; 

A pearl of untold worth, to deck 
The cabinet of youth. 


350 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


The Preacher and Robbers. 

t Methodist preacher, several 
years ago, in Ireland, was 
journeying to the village where 
he had to dispense the word 
of life, according to the usual rou- 
tine of his duty, and was stopped 
on his way by three robbers. One 
of them seized his bridle reins/ an- 
other presented a pistol and demand- 
ed his money, and the third was a 
mere looker-on. 

The grave and devoted man look- 
ed each and all of them in the face, 
and with great gravity and seriousness 
said, “Friends, did you pray to God 
before you left home ? Did you ask 
God to bless you in your underta- 
kings to-day ?” 

These questions startled them for a 
moment. Recovering themselves, one 
said, “We have no time to answer 
such questions ; we want your mo- 
ney.” 

“I am a poor preacher of the Gos- 
pel,” was the reply ; “ but what little 
money I have shall be given you.” 
A few shillings was all he had to 
give. 

“Haye you not a watch?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, then, give it to us.” 

In taking his watch from his pock- 
et, his saddle-bags were displayed. 

“What have you here?” was the 
question again. 

“I cannot say I have nothing in 
them but religious books, because I 
have a pair of shoes and a change 
of linen, also.” 

“We must have them.” 

The pious preacher dismounted. 


The saddle-bags were taken posses- 
sion of, and no further demands were 
made. Instantly, the preacher began 
to unbutton his great-coat, and to 
throw it off his shoulders, at the 
same time asking, “ Will you have 
my great-coat?” 

“ No,” was the reply ; “ you are 
a generous man, and we will not 
take it.” 

He then addressed them as follows: 
“I have given you every thing you 
asked for, and would have given you 
more than you asked for ; I have 
one favor to ask of you.” 

“What is that?” 

“That you will kneel down and 
allow me to pray with you, and to 
pray to Almighty God in your be- 
half; to ask him to turn your hearts 
and put you upon better ways.” 

“I’ll have nothing to do with the 
man’s things,” said the ringleader of 
them. 

“ Nor I either,” said another of 
them. 

“ Here, take your watch — take your 
saddle-bags ; if we have any thing to 
do with you, the judgments of God 
will overtake us.” 

So all the articles were returned 
That, however, did not satisfy the t 
godly man. He urged prayer upon 
them. He knelt down; one of the 
robbers knelt with him; one prayed, 
the other wept, confessed his sin, 
and said it was the first time in his 
life he had done such a thing, and 
should be the last. How far lie kept 
his word, is known only to Him to 
whom the darkness and the light are 
alike — to Him whose eyelids try the 
children of men. — Selected. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


351 


Tlie Two Schoolmates. 

A TRUE NARRATIVE WITH FICTITIOUS NAMES. 

Vj^ohn and George were school- 
11 fellows in the little village of 
Barnfield. They had each a 
fondness for the water, and 
were always foremost by the river’s 
brink, sailing their little boats, bath- 
ing, scaling flat- bits of stone on the 
surface of the stream, and fishing. 
Many a time were the neighbors alarm- 
ed by the report that one or the other 
of the boys had fallen into the river, 
and as often did their parents look out 
at night with fearful anxiety for their 
return home. 

They grew up and went to sea ; 
not together, though at the same time, 
and from the same port. They met 
on a distant shore. Many were their 
talks about* home. The names of 
their schoolmates were mentioned over 
and over again, especially those of 
Mary and Sophia, the young belles of 
their rustic community, to whom they 
were attached by the earliest and ten- 
derest ties. 

These voyages were prosperous, and 
the two young men soon returned. 
In the course of the year they were 
both promoted. By their temperate 
and orderly conduct, they commended 
themselves to their employers, and 
their superior officers. At length each 
was intrusted with the command of 
a large ship, sailing from New Or- 
leans and Liverpool. They married 
each the object of his early love, and 
were as happy as worldly good could 
render them ; soon, however, there 
was to be a change. They left 


New Orleans for Liverpool. One had 
a more rapid passage than the other, 
so that his ship, the Minerva, was 
discharged and put to sea from Liv- 
erpool before the Prince Harry ar- 
rived. Two days passed, and the 
third night hung over the waters, 
when the Minerva, driven by a fresh 
breeze, danced onward through the 
white waves, leaving the sea boiling 
and foaming behind her. A lantern 
hung on her foremast, but it gave 
light scarcely sufficient to show any 
object twenty yards ahead. The mate, 
however, whose eye was quick and 
keen, saw something like a shadow 
or a cloud rising and falling a few 
yards before the bows. 

“A ship,” was the cry; “helm 
a lee,” the quick command ; “ hard 
up,” repeated. But in a moment the 
Minerva struck the dimly-seen and 
deeply-laden vessel, which went down, 
cargo, crew, and passengers. Not a 
groan was heard, not a floating ob- 
ject seen ; not a token of the little 
world known. She was, the Prince 
Harry, and George was her captain ! 
When the Minerva returned to New 
Orleans, John heard with amazement 
that the Prince Harry had not reach- 
ed Liverpool, although she was report- 
ed about two hundred miles from the 
English coast. “ Ah !” said John, “ it 
is too evident George was lost on that 
fatal night. Can it be that my friend 
went down beneath my own gallant 
ship ! Would that we had never 
known each other; or that we had 
sailfed to different ports. Nay, that 
I had never stood on a deck, nor 
listened to the voice of old ocean.” 

The widow and children of George 


352 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


were soon sought by the sympathi- 
zing and heart-broken John. He 
was their friend and patron even to 
their utmost need. That night is a 
gloom in the memory of John. He 
never speaks of it but with tears. 
Little did these friends think when, 
like some who will read this account, 
they trod the lawn together, and 
played by the river’s brink, that in 
Rafter years, so far from their homes, 
and in such circumstances, the one 
would go out of the world, and the 
other be left to mourn. Pow little 
do we know what is before us ! How 
kind should little children be to one 
another in their school days, that 
they may not - have occasion for re- 
morse when one or the other shall 
be no more on earth. And how ear- 
nest should they be to prepare for 
every thing that may take place, by 
giving their hearts to the Lord. — Se- 
Iccted. 


Wisdom learned from a Horse. 

f wo gentlemen were riding togeth- 
er, one of whom, who was very 
choleric, happened to be mount- 
ed on a very high-mettled horse. 
The horse grew a little troublesome, at 
which the rider became very angry, 
and whipped and spurred him with 
great fury. The horse, almost as 
wrong-headed as his master, returned 
his treatment with kicking and plung- 
ing. The companion, concerned for 
the danger, and ashamed of the folly 
of his friend, said to him Coolly, “ Be 
quiet, and show yourself the wiser 
creature of the two.” — Selected. 


“ Diogenes, being asked of what 
beast the bite was most dangerous, an. 
swered, 1 Of wild beasts, that of a slan. 
derer ; of tame, that of a flatterer.’ ” 


Song for the Season. 

BY ELIZA COOK. 

Look out, look out, there are shadows about ; 

The forest is donning its doublet of brown, 

The willow tree sways with a gloomier flout, 

Like a beautiful face with a gathering frown ! 

’Tis true we all know that Summer must go, 

That the swallow will never stay long in our eaves ; 
Yet we’d rather be watching the wild rose blow, 

Than be counting the colors of Autumn leaves ! 

Look high, look high, there’s the lace-winged fly, 
Thinking he’s king of a fairy realm, 

As he swings with delight on the gossamer tie, 

That is link’d ’mid the boughs of the sun-tipped elm. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


353 


Alas ! poor thing, the first rustle will bring 
The pillars to dust, where your pleasure-clue weaves, 

And many a spirit, like thine, will cling 

To hopes that depend upon Autumn leaves ! 

Look low, look low, the night-gusts blow, 

And the restless forms in hectic red, 

Come whirling and sporting wherever we go, 

Lighter in dancing, as nearer the dead ! 

Oh ! who has not seen rare hearts, that have been 
Painted and panting, in garb that deceives, 

Lashing gaily along in their fluttering sheen 

With Despair at the core, like the Autumn leaves ! 

Look on, look on, morn breaketh upon 

The hedge-row boughs, in their withering hue 
The distant orchard is sallow and wan, 

But the apple and nut gleam richly through. 

Oh ! well it will be if our life, like the tree, 

Shall be found, when old Time of green beauty bereaves, 
With the fruit of good works for the Planter to see 

Shining out in Truth’s harvest, through Autumn leaves ! 

Merrily pours, as it sings and soars, 

The west wind over the land and seas, 

Till it plays in the forest and moans and roars, 

Seeming no longer a mirthful breeze ! 

So Music is blest, till it meeteth a breast 

That is probed by the strain, while Memory grieves 
To think it was sung by a loved one at rest, 

Then it comes like the sweet wind in Autumn leaves ! 

Not in an hour are leaf and flower 

Stricken in freshness, and swept to decay ; 

By gentle approaches, the frost and the shower, 

Make ready the sap veins for falling away ! 

And so is Man made to as peacefully fade, 

By the tear that he sheds, and the sigh that he heaves, 

For he’s loosened from earth by each trial-cloud’s shade. 

Till he’s willing to go, as the Autumn leaves ! 

Look back, look back, and you’ll find the track 
Of human hearts, strown thickly o’er 
With Joy’s dead leaves, all diy and black, 

And every year still flinging more. 

But the soil is fed, where the branches are shed 
For the furrow to bring forth fuller sheaves, 

And so is our trust in the Future spread 
’ In the gloom of Mortality’s Autumn leaves 

London Weekly Dispatch. 


354 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Natural Gas lights. 

wj n the village of Wigmore, England, 
|| as we learn from a late London 
$1 paper, there are fields which yield 
a natural gas, that burns as well 
as the gas manufactured on purpose for 
burning, and gives light just the same. 
This vapor, with which the ground is 
charged at a little distance below the 
surface, is obtained in the following 
manner : A hole is made in the cellar 
of the house, or other locality, with an 
iron rod ; a hollow tube is then placed 
in it, fitted with a fyurner similar to 
those used for ordinary gas-lights ; and 
immediately on applying a flame to the 
jet, a soft and brilliant light is obtain- 
ed, which may be kept burning at plea- 
sure. The gas is very pure, quite free 
from any offensive smell, and does not 
stain the ceilings, as is generally the 
case with the manufactured article. 
Besides lighting rooms, it has been used 
for cooking ; and indeed seems capable 
of the same applications as prepared 
carbureted hydrogen. There are se- 
veral fields in which the phenomenon 
exists, and children are seen boring 
holes and setting the gas on fire for 
amusement. It is now about twelve 
months since the discovery was made ; 
and a great many of the curious have 
visited, and still continue to visit, the 
spot. 


“ ‘ There were three hours and a 
half lost by you this morning,’ a 
superintendent said to a tardy teach- 
er. ‘ I was only half an hour late,’ 
he replied. ‘ True,’ said the super- 
intendent, ‘but there were seven scho- 
lars waiting for you.’ ” 


My Little Sister. 

She hath a round and dimpled arm, 

And shoulders. white and fair; 

She hath a pure and open brow, 
Unclouded all by care. 

She hath a loving, dark blue eye, 

That speaketh nought of guile, 

And ’round her red and pouting lip 
There curls a happy smile. 

But, oh ! she is the little one, 

The youngest of the three; 

There’s centered all our love and pride — 
A darling babe is she. 

And she was born when Autumn’s shades 
Were gathering all around, 

When the rude blast sent yellow leaves 
All mourning to the ground. 

But still she seems a cherished thing, 

An angel pure and bright, 

Sent down to cheer us through the gloom 
Of winter’s dreary night. ada 

CiNTON, N. T. 8 bpt. 1847. 


Manhood Judged by Youth. 

® ld age reels under the dissipations 
of youth. An uncivil boy makes 
an insolent, surly man. Insu- 
bordination in the boy results in 
manhood rebellious and impatient under 
wholesome restraint. Untamed passion 
in a youth expiates its offences in the 
dungeon or on the scaffold. We judge 
of manhood by the aspect which youth 
wears. Ask thy fathers, and they will 
tell thee. Men who have been ^sap- 
pointed in life ; men who have been 
most successful ; men who have borne 
the highest honors of a nation — all will 
tell you, that the good or the evil of 
their youth has attended them at every 
step, and marked and controlled their 
career. — Selected. 


355 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


EDITORIAL TABLE-TALK. 


Here is a brief extract from a long 
communication. We wish we could 
publish the whole. But we are sure 
the writer’s partiality for an individ- 
ual leads him to frame a eulogy much 
more enthusiastic than that individual 
would care to see in print. The writer 
will excuse us, if we copy only the fol- 
lowing from his exceedingly well writ- 
ten letter : 

“ My Dear Mr. Editor, — We sub- 
scribed for the Youth’s Cabinet the 
other day, and we have found it a 
handsome and agreeable little produc- 
tion. We did not forget to peruse it as 
fast as it could pass from one to anoth- 
er, and even in the manner of a circle 
crowding to catch a glimpse of its pure, 
white pages, and pretty stories ; so that 
we might have presented a funny spec- 
tacle enough. It was a May number; 
and when I saw that in answer to a re- 
quest by the editor, some school-girls, 
in Pennsylvania, had written a little 
article descriptive of their circumstan- 
ces and the scenery of their village, I 
was tempted to do the same. And you 
must not esteem me an enthusiast, if I 
tell you that Sardinia is a delightful 
country town in Erie county, and that 
nature has crowded the loveliest beau- 
ties in a vale of a hundred inhabitants. 
It takes superlative skill to picture 
even striking attractions of scenery, so 
as to please and interest the reader ; 
and I will be as brief and concise as 
possible. But I am at my wit’s end 
how to begin. Prattling rivulets, smil- 
ing fields, majestic trees, towering hills, 
and delightful airs ! They are so fre- 
quently scribbled about and praised, 


that I am half sorry I thought to say 
any thing hereon. Indeed, I will not. 
Pray do not be offended at my incon- 
stancy of purpose. But I will rather 
praise the enchanting and quiet moral- 
ity and happiness of the people.” 

So he does, with a witness. 


How happy those little children are 
this bright autumn morning, .on their 
way to school. It is pleasant to see 
them enjoying themselves in this man- 
ner. They are full of life. See them 
play. How charming to hear their 
sweet voices ring in tones of merriment. 
We cannot bear to see a child sad. It 
grieves us to see the tears chasing each 
other down his cheek. But these little 
boys and girls are happy enough, if we 
can judge by their playfulness. We 
wonder if they all think who it is that 
makes them so happy — who gives them 
food and raiment — who keeps them 
alive and well? Little boy, did you 
offer a prayer to your kind heavenly 
Father this morning ? Little girl, did 
you ? You will not forget God, dear 
children, will you? Wait a moment. 
Here is a pretty hymn for you. You 
may learn it, if you please. And don’t 
you think it would be a very good 
hymn to use as a prayer, every day, 
before you go away to school ? We 
think it would. 

THE CHILD’S MORNING HYMN. 

The morning bright, 

With rosy light, 

Has waked me from my sleep; 
Father, I own 
Thy love alone 
Thy little one doth keep. 


35G 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


All through the day, 

I humbly pray, 

Be thou my guard and guide ; 
My sins forgive, 

And let me live, 

Blest Jesus, near thy side. 

Oh, make thy rest 
Within my breast, 

Great Spirit of all grace; 
Make me like thee, 

Then shall I be 
Prepared to see thy face. 


ANSWER TO ENIGMA NO. VII. 

A correspondent sends the following, 
which Ann Eliza will see has some 
particular reference to her. What a 
multitude of perils authors do have! 
We suppose that the writer must be 
“ Little Patty’s” aunt, though we don’t 
know certainly : “ Aunt Patty has tried 
to guess the enigma of Ann Eliza, in 
the October number of the Cabinet, 
and Aunt Patty guesses that Ann 
Eliza has made two or three mis- 
takes. 

“ Daniel was a holy man. Adams 
is the statesman. The infectious fever 
is not the mesles ; perhaps she means 
the measles, but that is not a fair state- 
ment, even if she had known how to 
spell it right. There is no such flower 
as jasmine; it should be jasmin or jessa- 
mine. Idleness is a great evil, and the 
editor of the Cabinet wears a Smile 
when he is pleased. Lime is an im- 
portant article for building, and these 
words will give us James Island ; but 
Aunt Patty has looked through Wil- 
lard’s History, and Willson’s History 
of the American Revolution, without 
finding the name of any such place dis- 
tinguished for an important battle. 


\ 


Aunt Patty thinks that girls who make 
riddles ought to be careful.” 

So much for Aunt Patty’s communi- 
cation. The editor begs leave to say 
one word in relation to this matter. He 
agrees with Aunt Patty, that girls ought 
to be careful when they make riddles. 
We have scolded a good deal about this 
already, and mean to scold more, if the 
little folks don’t look out. But we 
think that our good aunts ought to be 
particularly careful when they attempt 
to correct mistakes in little girls’ enig- 
mas. Aunt Patty must wipe the dust 
off from her spectacles, before she plays 
the critic again. The truth is, that the 
flower is spelled correctly, as any one 
with tolerably good eye-sight may see, 
by consulting Webster’s quarto Diction- 
ary, where jasmine and jasmin are both 
given. There is too much dust on 
those spectacles of yours, Aunt Patty— 
depend upon it. 


ENIGMA NUMBER VIII. 

The following very pretty geograph- 
ical enigma was composed without any 
assistance by a little boy in Louisiana, 
only eight years old. He is a son of 
one of our valued correspondents, and 
his name is Thomas Kenned/. We 
shall be glad to hear from you again, 
Master Thomas, if you should happen 
to make another enigma as good as this : 

I am a name in twenty-three letters. 
My 1, 21, 2, 12, 17, is one of the Unit- 
ed States ; my 2, 10, 10, 4, 12, 15, 2, 
5, is one of the United States ; my 23, 
21, 6, 11, 5, is a county in Virginia; 
my 9, 20, 16, 6, is a county in North 
Carolina; my 11, 8, 4, 17, is a county 
in Pennsylvania ; my 8, 15, 5, 5, is a 
county in Ohio; my 10, 7, 11, is a 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


357 


county in Virginia; my. 1, 21, 22, 2, 
15, 3, is a county in Georgia ; my 1, 
15, 3, 8, 15, 11, is a county in Missis- 
sippi; my 1, 21, 5, 15, 12, is a county 
in Kentucky ; my 14, 15, 12, 15, 10, 
21, is a county in Mississippi; my 5, 2, 

I, 9, 5, 15, 12, is a county in Ken- 
tucky ; my 6, 2, 14, 16, 15, 18, is a 
county in Tennessee ; my 10, 21, 14, 

II, 17, 8, is a county in Michigan ; 
my 5, 15, 1, 11, 8, 5, 11, 6, is a coun- 
ty in New Jersey; my 21, 10, 10, 11, 
12, is a county in Indiana; my 9, 7, 
15, 8, 13, 21, is a county in Illinois; 
my 10, 2, 12, 18, is a county in Mis- 
souri. My whole is a hard name for a 
little boy to understand. 

ANSWER TO T-HE LAST CHARADE. 

Aunt Patty’s little boy says he guess- 
ed this charade very easily. It is this : 

Cab 1 

I j* Cabinet. 

Net. J 

AUNT PATTY'S RIDDLE. 

From what odd number can you take 
two, and make the remainder even ? 


A RIDDLE. 

I’m large and I’m small, I’m distant and near, 
Admired by all, and to some very dear. 

I’m handled, and yet I am quite out of reach — 
Sometimes I am eaten — at others I teach. 
Opaque and transparent, bright, dull, new and 
old, 

I’ve worn all the colors, I’m bought and I’m sold. 
I’m worn by the ladies and gentlemen too, 

On the head, breast, or neck, and oft on the shoe. 
By some I am held in contempt, if alone, 

But changed if the alphabet’s number I own. 
To please the young boys, I have sailed as a kite, 
And often the eagle have joined in a flight. 

In the house, boat, and ship, on sea, and on land, 
I ever have taken my glorious stand. 


An honor I’m deemed by the noble and great, 
And gladly am used on occasions of state. 
Above and beneath, ’mid the high and the low, 
In the cities I shine, o’er the desert I glow ; 
Though formed of most substances, true to my 
name, 

In each color and size my form is the same. 

To obtain or defend me, thousands have fought, 
And wisest professors my attributes taught. 

I appear in the learned and the curious gaze — 
I’m missed, and ’tis said I was lost in a blaze. 
So noble and lofty my station I ween, 

Long after I’m gone, I am still to be seen. 

But, oh ! nobler still than all else I adorn, 

I announced to earth its most glorious morn. 

M. E. H. 

NA8HVILLE, TBNN. SsPT. 1347. 


TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

“ Happiness” is a very desirable 
thing. There is no disputing that. 
But we cannot say as much of the lines 
on this subject which have just come 
into our hands. In plain English, we 
shall have to decline them, simply be- 
cause they are not good enough. 

“My Sister Helen” shall have a 
place soon — possibly in the next num- 
ber ; though the writer need not be sur- 
prised if it lies on the editor’s table, 
waiting its turn, a good deal longer 
than that. Have patience, sir. There 
are half a hundred before you. Let us 
see. We shall have to cut out two or 
three of these stanzas, we guess. They 
need some filing and planing — more 
than we have time to bestow upon 
them. So we must call in the aid of 
the broad-axe. 

The writer of the lines “To a Star” 
has improved a good deal since the first 
effusion she sent us. That is encour- 
aging, surely. Perhaps we shall pub- 
lish them, too. That will be still more 
encouraging. 


358 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 


South Norwalk. 


POETRY BY COWPER.— AIR BY FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH 



2. E’er since by faith I saw the stream 

Thy flowing wounds supply, 
Redeeming love has been my theme, 

And shall be — till I die. ’ 

3. Then, in a nobler, sweeter song, 

I’ll sing thy power to save, 

When this poor, lisping, faltering tongue 
Lies silent in the grave. 

4. Dear dying Lamb ! thy precious blood 

Shall never lose its power, 

Till all the ransom’d church of God 
Be saved, to sin no more. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


359 


The Reward of Kindness. 


ood actions always have 
their reward. Though 
we ought not to do 
good simply on ac- 
count of the benefit 
that may result to us, 
yet, people are often 
more than paid for 
kind actions, even in 
this life. A striking 
instance of this fact 
happened near Florence, in Italy, a 


great many years ago. It was in an 
age when much more was made of 
knighthood than there is now. Then 
multitudes of people dressed in com- 
plete armor, almost always when they 
went abroad. They were then called 
knights, or men of honor. 

One of these men was crossing a for- 
est in the night, and was waylaid by 
assassins, who wounded him, and left 
him little better than dead. The next 
day a peasant girl was strolling through 




THE GOOD GIRL TAKING CARE OF THE WOUNDED MAN. 


the forest, with her little brother, quite 
a child, in search of flowers, and disco- 
vered the wounded man. His face was 
covered with blood, and at first the timid 
girl thought she would run away as 
fast as she could, for fear that she too 
might be in danger. However, she 
pitied the poor knight so much, that she 
determined to brave the danger, and 
Vot. II. 12 


attempt to save his life. She did so. 
She sent her brother home after, assist- 
ance, while she remained and took 
care of the wounded man. He had 
lost a great deal of blood, and was too 
weak to say a word. But she saw that 
he was alive, and went to a spring for 
water to wash the blood from his face, 
and to cool his fever. A long time she 


360 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


watched him, alone. By and by he 
revived a little, and assistance having 
arrived, he was carried on a litter to 
the peasant’s house, where he was 
treated with the utmost kindness until, 
after several weeks, he entirely reco- 
vered. It was then ascertained that 
the knight was one of the most distin- 
guished noblemen in Italy, and he be- 
stowed a princely fortune upon the 
family that had so kindly taken care 
of him. That was an ample reward 
for such services, was it not ? Still, 
these peasants had a reward which was 
worth more even than this: They had 
the consciousness of conferring a favor 
upon a suffering fellow-man — the plea- 
sure of feeling that they had done a 
kindness where it was so greatly need- 
ed, Children, though you may never 
obtain a fortune by doing good, you 
will receive what is more valuable — 
the applause of your conscience in this 
life, and it may be the smiles of your 
heavenly Father in the future. 

There is a story of a Baptist minister, 
in London, which illustrates, perhaps 
better than the one I have been telling, 
the fact that doing good carries its own 
reward with it. Dr. Beecher, of Cin- 
cinnati, tells the story. This Baptist 
clergyman, a few years since, was 
walking along one of the crowded 
streets of London, when his attention 
was arrested by the circumstance that 
a carriage, with several horses, was just 
about to pass over a little girl, who was 
slowly crossing the road. He strongly 
felt the danger of the child, and forget- 
ting his own, he ran, snatched her in 
his arms, and hastened with her to the 
side path, when the thought struck 
him — what would the parents of this 


dear child have felt, had she been kill- 
ed ! At this moment he looked in the 
face of the little girl, which had been 
concealed from his view by her bonnet ; 
and imagine, if you can, what his feel- 
ings were when he discovered it was 
his daughter ! “ I saw him,” says Dr. 

Beecher, “ about half an hour after the 
occurrence, and I shall never forget his 
agitation as he described to me her 
danger, or his expressions of thankful- 
ness to an infinitely gracious Being, 
who thus delivered his beloved child 
from death.” 


The Life and Times of Old Tabby. 

WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 

WT\W| 0 w, my little boys and girls, let 
jjllgl me give you a history of my 
life. I am now an old cat — I 
think, about fifteen years old — 
and have, in common with all other 
cats, experienced many hard times. It 
is a great wonder, indeed, that I am 
living at this time. Every body says 
we cats have “ nine lives,” but they 
are mistaken. If they would say that 
we are about nine times harder to kill 
than any other animal, they would be 
coming nearer the truth than by saying 
that we have nine lives. But, as this 
is a mere idle saying, I will pass it by 
with the remark, that we poor cats 
generally receive from your hands 
about nine times worse treatment 
than we really deserve. 

I am well aware that some cats, like 
some people, have very unfortunate 
tempers and dispositions, and deserve 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


361 


to be chased out of town ; but this is 
no reason why all of us, however good- 
tempered and well-disposed, should be 
harshly treated. If one boy in town 
is very bad and rude, and deserves a 
good whipping every hour in the day, 
is that any reason why all the other 
boys should be whipped, also ? I think 
not. Now, if you will take an old 
cat’s advice, you will be very kind to 
cats. If it were not for us, rats and 
mice would almost eat you up. They 
would eat holes in your pantries and 
cupboards, and get into your flour and 
cheese, and preserves, and cakes, and t 
every thing that is nice and good to eat. 
We poor cats will sit and watch, day 
after day, and night after night, to catch 
those rogues ; and we do it, not only to 
gratify our own appetites, but to protect 
your good things. Still, you throw 
sticks and stones at us, and make our 
fur fly, and sometimes break our legs, 
and put out our eyes. You ought to 
be ashamed to do so, it seems to me. 
When we are kindly treated, we will 
always try the more to catch all the rats 
and mice that come about the house. 
But when we are badly used, and not 
allowed to come in or about the house, 
we very often have to steal any thing 
we can, in order to get something to 
eat, and keep us from starving ; and 
very often we will catch the little chick- 
ens, ducks, and goslings. Now, when 
we do so, if your fathers or mothers 
can catch us, they will kill us, if they 
can. This is all very hard, indeed. 
We must have something to eat. You 
could not live without eating ; and if 
no person would allow you to come 
near the house, or give you any thing 
to eat, you would have to steal, or 


starve to death. Now, I am not telling 
you to steal. But we poor cats have to 
do it, when we cannot get any thing to 
eat. It is very wrong for any one to 
steal ; but it is worse for you to do so 
than for us, because you have souls, 
they tell me, and we have none. 

I once had a very kind mother, who 
gave her children some excellent in- 
struction and advice. Among other 
things, she said she had experienced a 
good deal of bad treatment from the 
boys and girls. She said, too, that she 
had made some very narrow escapes of 
her life, and that she feared she would 
be killed yet, as bad boys had no re- 
spect for old age. She told us that it 
was better to die young, than to live to 
be old ; for when cats got too old to catch 
rats or mice, people would say, “ This 
old cat ought to be drowned and that 
she had seen several old cats killed in 
that way. Well, sure enough, shortly 
after we went away from our old moth- 
er, some bad boys stoned her to death. 
Poor creature ! it makes me grieve 
when I think of her. Now, little chil- 
dren, how would you like to be treated 
in this way, by cats, if we were larger 
and stronger than you are ? How 
would you like to see us beat your 
friends and stone them to death ? 

When I was about one year old, I 
made a very narrow escape. I was 
living with Mr. Kindheart’s family. 
They always made a great pet of me. 
But Mr. Kindheart hired a new servant 
woman, who proved to be very spiteful 
and cross. She took a great spite at 
me, and the very first day she was 
there, she gave me a severe kick. 
This taught me to keep a sharp look- 
out, when near her. But, one day, 


362 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


when all the family were from home, 
on a visit, I was quietly sitting by the 
kitchen stove, and purring to myself, 
when this churlish woman very delibe- 
rately took up a pan of scalding water, 
and endeavored to throw it upon me. 
Very fortunately, however, I observed 
her movements and design in time to 
disappoint her. I made one bound to- 
ward the door, and barely saved my- 
self— the scalding water just falling on 
the very tip of my tail. I was very 
much rejoiced that I had made such a 
narrow escape; and I always after- 
ward kept clear of the old vixen of a 
woman, unless some one of the family 
was present. But this is only one of 
the hundred narrow escapes that I have 
made, since I have been able to look 
out for myself. I have been chased by 
boys and dogs, and sometimes almost 
had my eyes knocked out by stones 
thrown at me. I found every thing to 
be just as my poor old mother told me. 
L found that most boys were very hard- 
hearted, and that they did not care how 
roughly or cruelly they used us poor 
cats. I have seen many good-natured 
and well-disposed cats very cruelly 
dealt with. 

As I told you before, I am now about 
fifteen years old. I have seen a good 
many cold, freezing nights. And many 
a cold night I have had to sleep out in 
the snow. Self-praise, people say, is 
no recommendation ; but I think that I 
have caught more rats and mice than 
any other cat of my age. I have been 
very industrious — as it requires a great 
deal of industry to catch these little 
roguish fellows. But, in the estimation 
of boys, one cat is about as good as an- 
other, and all deserve to be killed. 


When I was about eight years old, Mr. 
Kindheart moved away to the western 
country, and went so far that he did not 
think he could take me along ; so he 
had to leave me alone in the house, as 
no person moved into it after he left ; 
and there I had to be, day and night, 
for some time, with no other way of 
getting any thing to eat but by my own 
industry in catching rats and mice. 

Well, after staying there some time, 
I resolved to go and find some other 
place to live. I was very lonesome, 
indeed, and wanted to be in some place 
where there were people living. After 
two days and nights’ travel, I came to 
Mr. Dontcare’s house, where I kept 
myself hid, through the day, for about 
a week. But at last, I found that no 
one except Mr. Dontcare and his wife 
were there, and that they took little or 
no notice of me. They would throw 
out the crumbs of bread, and scraps 
left from table, every day, and I would 
eat them; but they would never so 
much as call me. Neither of them 
would notice me, or have any thing to 
do with me. So I got along very well 
and peaceably with them, and lived 
with them about four years. There 
were no bad boys there to worry me. 
But, about the close of the four years 
that I lived with them, Mr. Dontcare 
moved away off, a great distance, and I 
was again left all alone. So I conclud- 
ed to find another home ; and, after one 
night’s travel, I came to a house in the 
outskirts of the town, near where I had 
last lived. 

Now, I suppose, little boys and girls, 
you think it very strange that I gene- 
rally traveled in the night. That is the 
time, you perhaps think, that thieves 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


363 


and robbers travel. This is all very 
true. But night is the only safe time 
that we have to travel in. Then we 
are safe from the bad boys, and escape 
the sight of many cross and spiteful 
dogs. You may think that night is 
rather a bad time to travel on a journey 
to seek a home, as it is generally too 
dark to see where to go. But you must 
recollect, little children, that we can 
see much better and plainer in the dark 
than you can, although we cannot see 
as well in the night as we can in the 
day time. 

Well, after I got to my new home, I 
had to be very shy for a long time. 
Every boy and dog in town would 
chase me whenever they saw me. My 
new master and mistress were both 
very kind to me. I do not know what 
is to happen to me before I die, but I 
know that I have seen enough of this 
cold-hearted world to convince me that 
no one need wish to live long. 

Now, little boys and girls, I hope you 
will take a lesson from Old Tabby’s 
advice. She has given this advice not 
only for the benefit of herself and other 
cats, but for your own good. If you 
indulge in such bad habits as I have 
spoken of, when you are young, you 
will, when you become men and wo- 
men, render yourselves very disagree- 
able to your friends, neighbors, and 
acquaintances. You will become so 
hard-hearted that no person will like 
you. Cruel boys and girls generally 
make cruel and wicked men and wo- 
men. H. K . G. 

Martin sbtiro, Va. Nov. 1847. 


Kt Trust not the praise of a friend, 
nor the contempt of an enemy.” 


Thou Shalt Not Steal. 

J ohn. Grandmother, you will ne- 
ver feel that wind at your back 
again, which gave you the rheu- 
matism last winter. It came 
through a chink in the wall under the 
window, and I have stopped it up. 

Grandmother. Thank you, my boy. 
But who showed you how to do it? 
and where did you get the mortar? 

J. It is nice, strong mortar, grand- 
mother, and nobody showed me how ; 
but I watched the men at work at 
Farmer Wilson’s house, and when they 
went away to their dinner, I got a 
tile, and put some mortar upon it to 
bring it home ; and one man had left 
his trowel, so I borrowed that, and 
took it back again before the men 
came to their work. Was not that 
clever ? 

G. You meant it very kindly to 
me, John, I dare, say; but I’m afraid 
it was more cleverly done, as you 
say, than honestly. 

J. Honestly, grandmother ! I would 
not do any thing dishonest for the 
world. Dishonest means thieving, does 
it not ? I would not be a thief for the 
world. 

G. Alas! my boy, I fear you have 
been a thief for a much smallei* mat- 
ter. But come and sit down by me, 
and give me your hand, and let us 
talk about it a little. Now, John, tell 
me what made you watch till the men 
were gone ? and what made you in 
a hurry to carry the trowel back 
before the man returned from his din 
ner ? 

J. Because I thought they would not 
let me have the mortar and trowel. 


364 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


G. And why would they have refused 
to let you have them ? 

J. I do not know. I suppose because 
they wanted the mortar ; or because it 
belonged to their employer. 

G. Then it did not belong to you ; 
so it is clear that you have taken some- 
thing that was not yours. When James 
Franks took your whipping-top, what 
did you say ? 

J. I know I called him a thief, 
grandmother. But I only had that one 
top, and I have never got another 
since. And there was so much of that 
mortar — such a heap ! Mr. Tyler could 
never miss the little bit that I took. 

G. I believe, John, you have not for- 
gotten the twentieth chapter of Exodus, 
which you could say so well last win- 
ter. 

J. No, grandmother ; I can say eve- 
ry word now. 

G. And what is the eighth command- 
ment ? 

J. Thou shalt not steal. 

G. It does not say any thing about 
little or much. And the tenth says 
that you must not even wish for 
what is your neighbor’s. So you 
see, that wishing for what belonged 
to the bricklayer, and taking it, broke 
two commandments at once. And as 
to its not being missed, do you think 
that I should miss one potato out of 
the bushel that Mrs. Goodson gave me 
yesterday ? 

J. No, grandmother, you would not, 
I am sure. Then, you know, it could 
do no harm. 

G. That is a mistake of yours, my 
dear boy. It is true, I should not 
miss the first or the second ; but sup- 
pose Franks were to come and take 


one every day till all were gone, what 
then ? • 

J. Yes, I see now. If taking the 
one was not stealing, taking one at a 
time would never come to stealing 
the whole bushel ; yet, sure I am, I 
should have said that Franks, the thief, 
had stolen all your potatoes. Oh, I 
am a thief ; what shall I do ? 

Here John’s tears flowed plentifully. 
His grandmother suffered him to weep 
for some time, and then said to him, 
gently and kindly, 

G. There is one thing you can do, 
my child ; you can go and confess 
your fault, and ask to be forgiven. 

J. Oh, but the bricklayer will be so 
angry ! 

G. Perhaps he will ; but we must 
not shrink from that. I will go with 
you, and tell him that, now you 
really understand what stealing is, I 
hope you will never be a thief again. 
But there is something else to be 
thought of first. Who is it says, 
“ Thou shalt not steal ?” 

J. It is God, grandmother. 

G. Then you have offended God, 
too, my dear boy. Does God ever 
forgive those who steal ? 

J. Oh, yes! He forgave the thief 
on the cross. 

G. Yes, because Jesus Christ died 
that sinners might be forgiven. Let 
us kneel down and pray that God, 
for Jesus’ sake, would forgive your 
theft, and then we shall have courage 
to face the owner of the mortar. — 
Selected. 


“ When you have no observers, be 
afraid of yourself.” 


365 



The Tame Panther. 


jTjk ll the animals of the leopard 
jyA kind are exceedingly fierce in 
MM their wild state. But they may- 
be tamed, and then they are al- 
most as harmless as a cat. Mrs. Bow- 
ditch, an English lady, who resided for 
some time on the coast of Africa, gives 
an interesting account of a favorite pan- 
ther which she took to England with 
her. This animal was very large for 
his species. When he was put on 
board the canoe, to be transported to 
the ship, though he was in a very 
strong cage, the boatmen were so much 
afraid Df him that they let him fall 
overboard, and he had quite a ducking. 
He was rescued from drowning, how- 
ever ; and after he got on board of the 
ship, he rolled himself up in one corner 
of his cage, and did not arouse for some 
days. When Mrs. Bowditch, his mis- 


tress, spoke to him, at this time, he 
knew her voice instantly. “ He raised 
his head,” she says, “ held it on one side, 
then on the other, to listen, and when I 
came fully to his view, he jumped on 
his legs, and appeared frantic. He 
rolled himself over and over, howled, 
opened his enormous jaws, cried, and 
seemed as if he would tear the cage in 
pieces. However, as his violence sub- 
sided, he contented himself with thrust- 
ing his paws and nose through the bars 
of the cage, to receive my caresses. 
I suspect that he had suffered from sea- 
sickness, as he had apparently loathed 
all food ; but, after this period, he ate 
almost any thing that was given to him. 
His indignation was strongly excited by 
pigs, when they were allowed to run 
past his cage ; and the sight of a mon- 
key put him in complete fury. While 


366 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


at anchor once on the passage, an orang 
outang was brought on board for sale, 
and lived three days in the vessel. I 
shall never forget the uncontrollable 
r rage of one animal, or the agony of the 
other, when they first met. The orang 
fled with precipitation from the pan- 
ther, whose eyes flashed fire, and whose 
huge teeth glittered terribly.” This 
panther arrived safely in England, but 
he died soon after. He could not bear 
exposure to a climate so different from 
the one to which he had been accus- 
tomed. 


Address to a Butterfly. 

A FABLE— BT JOHN MILTON STEAP.NS. 

Yes, little fairy, I’ll address thee; 

If I could catch thee, I’d caress thee, 
Thou pretty, charming creature: 

Thy wings of gold and crimson hue, 

So beautiful, delight my view — 

Thou seem’st a gem of nature. 

But fickle, transient, are thy charms ; 
When seeming nearly in my arms, 

In vain I seek to clasp thee, 

Thou dodgest upward, and away, 

Art lost in azure mists of day, 

Ere human hand can grasp thee. 

Well, such is pleasure’s luring smile; 
We anxious chase her steps awhile, 
When, lo! her charms are vanished, 
Have left a melancholy void, 

Where dreams of bliss are all destroyed, 
And hope is nearly banished. 

Let evanescent butterflies 
No more delight or charm my eyes, 
With phantoms so deceiving ; 

But virtue’s substance let me find, 

To chasten and adorn the mind, 

Her imagery receiving. 


The Avaricious Miller. 

en are themselves blind, who 
describe Fortune without sight. 
No first-rate beauty ever had 
finer eyes, or ever saw more 
clearly : they who have no other trade 
but seeking their fortune, need never 
hope to find her ; coquette-like, she 
flies from her close pursuers, and at 
last fixes on the plodding mechanic, 
who stays at home and minds his 
business. 

I am amazed how men can call 
her blind, when by the company she 
keeps she seems so very discerning. 
Wherever you see a gaming-table, be 
assured Fortune is not there ; wherever 
you see a house with the doors all 
open, be very sure Fortune is not 
there ; when you see a man whose 
pocket-holes are laced with gold, be 
satisfied Fortune is not there ; when- 
ever you see a beautiful woman good- 
natured and obliging, be convinced 
Fortune is never there. In short, she 
is ever seen accompanying industry, 
and as often trundling a wheel-bar- 
row as lolling in a coach and six. 

If you would make Fortune your 
friend, or — to personize her no longer — 
if you desire, my son, to be rich and 
have money, be more eager to save 
than to acquire. When people say, 
“Money is to be got here, and mo- 
ney is to be got there,” take no no- 
tice ; mind your own business ; stay 
where you are, and secure all you 
can get, without stirring. When you 
hear # that your neighbor has picked 
up- a purse of gold in the street, 
never run out into the same street, 
looking about you in order to pick up 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


367 


such another; or when you are in- 
formed that he has made a fortune 
in one branch of business, never 
change your own in order to be his 
rivgd. Do not desire to be rich all 
at once, but patiently add farthing 
to farthing. Perhaps you despise the 
petty sum ; and yet they who want 
a farthing, and have no friend that 
will lend them it, think farthings very 
good things. Whang, the foolish mill- 
er, when he wanted a farthing in 
his distress, found that no friend 
would lend, because they knew he 
wanted. Did you ever read the story 
of Whang in our books of Chinese 
learning ? he who, despising small 
sums, and grasping at all, lost even 
what he had ?, 

Whang, the miller, was naturally 
avaricious ; nobody loved money better 
than he, or more respected those that 
had it. When people would talk of 
a rich man in company, Whang 
would say, I know him- very well ; 
he and I have been long acquainted; 
he and I are intimate ; he stood for 
a child of mine : but if a poor man 
was mentioned, he had not the least 
knowledge of the man ; he might be 
very well, for aught he knew ; but 
he was not fond of many acquaint- 
ances, and loved to choose his com- 
pany. 

Whang, however, with all his eager- 
ness for riches, was in reality poor ; 
he had nothing but the profits of his 
mill to support him ; but though these 
were small, they were certain: while 
his mill stood and went, he was sure 
of eating ; and his frugality was 
such, that he every day laid some 
money by, which he would at inter- 


vals count and contemplate with ve^y 
much satisfaction. Yet still, his ac- 
quisitions were not equal to his de- 
sires : he only found himself above 
want; whereas, he desired to be pos- 
sessed of affluence. 

One day, as he was indulging these 
wishes, he was informed that a neigh- 
bor of his had found a pan of money 
under ground, having dreamed of it 
three nights running before. These 
tidings were daggers to the heart of 
poor Whang. “ Here aril I,” says 
he, “toiling and moiling from morn- 
ing till night for a few paltry far- 
things, while neighbor Hunks only 
goes quietly to bed, and dreams him- 
self into thousands before morning. 
Oh, that I could dream like him ! with 
what pleasure would I dig round the 
pan ; how slily would I carry it home ; 
not even my wife should see me ; and 
then, oh, the pleasure of thrusting one’s 
hand into a heap of gold up to the el- 
bow !” 

Such reflections only served to 
make the miller unhappy; he dis- 
continued his former assiduity ; he 
was quite disgusted with small gains, 
and his customers began to forsake 
him. Every day he repeated the 
wish, and every night laid himself 
down in order to dream. Fortune, 
that was for a long time unkind, at 
last seemed to smile upon his dis- 
tresses, and indulged him with the 
wished-for vision. He dreamed that 
under a certain part of the founda- 
tion of his mill there was concealed 
a monstrous pan of gold and dia- 
monds, buried deep in the ground, 
and covered with a large flat stone. 
He rose up, thanked the stars that 


308 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


were at last pleased to take pity on 
his sufferings, and concealed his good 
luck from every person, as is usual 
in money dreams, in order to have 
the vision repeated the two succeed- 
ing nights, by which he should be 
certain of its veracity. His wishes 
in this, also, were answered ; he still 
dreamed of the same pan of money, 
in the very same place. 

Now, therefore, -it was past a 
doubt; so getting up early the third 
morning, he repairs alone, with a 
mattock in his hand, to the mill, and 
began to undermine that part of the 
wall to which the vision directed. 
The first omen of success that he 
met was a broken mug ; digging still 
deeper, he turns up a house-tile, 
quite new and entire. At last, after 
much digging, he came to a broad 
flat stone, but then so large, that it 
was beyond one man’s strength to re- 
move it. “ Here,” cried he, in rap- 
tures, to himself, “here it is! under 
this stone there is room for a very 
large pan of diamonds, indeed. I 
must now go home to my wife, tell 
her the whole affair, and get her to 
assist me in turning it up.” Away, 
therefore, he goes, and acquaints his 
wife with every circumstance of their 
good fortune. Her raptures on this 
occasion may very easily be imagin- 
ed ; she flew round his neck, and em- 
braced him in an agony of joy ; but 
those transports, however, did not de- 
lay their eagerness to know the exact 
sum : returning, therefore, speedily to 
the place where Whang had been dig- 
ging, there they found — not, indeed, the 
expected treasure — but the mill under- 
mined and fallen . — English Paper. 


The Young Prussian. 

f REDERicK, King of Prussia, one day 
rung his bell ; and nobody an- 
swering, he opened his door, ^nd 
found his page fast asleep in an 
elbow chair. He advanced toward, 
and was going to awaken him, when 
he perceived a letter hanging out of 
his pocket. His curiosity prompting 
him to know what it was, he took it 
out and read it. It was a letter from 
the young man’s mother, in which she 
thanked him for having sent her part 
of his money to relieve her misery, 
and finished with telling him that God 
would reward hiim for his dutiful affec- 
tion. The king, after reading it, went 
back softly to his chamber, took a 
purse full of ducats, and slipped it, 
with the letter, into the page’s pocket. 
Returning to his chamber, he rung the 
bell so loudly that it awakened the 
page, who instantly made his appear- 
ance. “ You have had a sound sleep,” 
said the king. The page was at a loss 
how to excuse himself ; and putting his 
hand into his pocket by chance, to his 
utter astonishment he there found a 
purse of ducats. He took it out, turned 
pale, and looking at the king, shed a 
torrent of tears, without being able to 
utter a single word. “ What is that ?” 
said the king ; “ what is the matter ?” 
“Ah, sire,” said the young man, “some- 
body seeks my ruin ! I know nothing 
of this money which I have just found 
in my pocket.” “ My young friend,” 
replied Frederick, “God often does great 
things for us, even in our sleep. Send 
that to your mother ; salute her on my 
part, and assure her that I will take 
care of both her and you.” — Selected. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


369 



Temptation Resisted. 


BY T. S. ARTHUR. 


harles Murray left home, with 
his books in his satchel, for 
school. Before starting, he 
kissed his little sister, and patted 
Juno on the head, and as he went 
singing away, he felt as happy as any 
little boy could wish to feel. Charles 
was a good-tempered lad, but he had 
the fault common to a great many boys, 
that of being tempted and enticed by 
others to do things which he knew to be 
contrary to the wishes of his parents. 
Such acts never made him feel any 
happier, for the fear that his disobedi- 
ence would be found out, added to a 
consciousness of having done wrong, 
were far from being pleasant compan- 
ions. 

On the present occasion, as he walked 
briskly in the direction of the school, he 
repeated over his lessons in his mind, 
and was intent upon having them so 
perfect as to be able to repeat every 
word. He had gone nearly half the 


r 

distance, and was still thinking over 
his lessons, when he stopped suddenly, 
as a voice called out, 

“ Hallo, Charley ! ” 

Turning in the direction from which 
the voice came, he saw Archy Benton, 
with his school basket in his hand ; but 
he was going from, instead of in the 
direction of the school. 

“ Where are you going, Archy ? ” 
asked Charles, calling out to him. 

“Into the woods, for chestnuts. ” 

“ Aint you going to school, to-day ?” 

“No, indeed. There was a sharp 
frost, last night, and Uncle John says 
the wind will rattle down the chestnuts 
like hail.” ' 

“Did your father say you might 
go?” 

“No, indeed. I asked him, but he 
said I couldn’t go until Saturday. But 
the hogs are in the woods, and will 
eat the chestnuts all up, before Satur- 
day. So I am going to-day. Come, 



370 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


go along, won’t you ? It is such a fine 
day, and the ground will be covered 
with chestnuts. We can get home at 
the usual time, and no one will suspect 
that we were not at school.” 

“I should like to go, very well,” 
said Charley ; “ but I know father will 
be greatly displeased, if he finds it 
out, and I am afraid he would get to 
know it, in some way.” 

“ How could he get to know it ? 
Isn’t he at his store all the time ?” 

“ But he might think to ask me if I 
was at school. And I never will tell 
a lie.” 

“ You could say yes, and not tell a 
lie, either,” returned Archy. “You 
were at school yesterday.” 

“No, I couldn’t. A lie, father says, 
is in the intent to deceive. He would, 
of course, mean to ask whether I was 
at school to-day, and if I said yes, I 
would tell a lie.” 

“It isn’t so clear to me that you 
would. At any rate, I don’t see such 
great harm in a little fib. It doesn’t 
hurt any body.” 

“ Father says a falsehood hurts a 
boy a great deal more than he thinks 
for. And one day he showed me in 
the Bible where liars were classed with 
murderers, and other \vicked spirits, in 
hell. I can’t tell a lie, Archy.” 

“ There won’t be any need of your 
doing so,” urged Archy ; “ for I am 
sure he will never think to ask you 
about it. Why should he ?” 

“ I don’t know. But whenever I 
have been doing any thing wrong, he 
is sure to begin to question me, and 
lead me on until I betray the secret of 
my fault.” 

“Never mind. Come and go with 


me. It is such a fine day. Ws 
shan’t have another like it. It will rain 
on Saturday, I’ll bet any thing. So 
come along, now, and let us have a 
day in the woods, while we can.” 

Charles was very strongly tempted. 
When he thought of the confinement 
of school, and then of the freedom of 
a day in the woods, he felt much in- 
clined to go with Archy. 

“ Come along,” said Archy, as 
Charles stood balancing the matter in 
his mind. And he took hold of his 
arm, and drew him in a direction oppo- 
site from the school. “Come! you 
are just the boy I want. I was think- 
ing about you the moment before I saw 
you.” 

The temptation to Charles was very 
strong. “ I don’t believe I will be 
found out,” he said to himself. “ And 
it is such a pleasant day to go into the 
woods.” 

Still he held back, and thought of 
his father’s displeasure if he should 
discover that he had played the truant. 
The word “ truant,” that he repeated 
mentally, decided the matter in his 
mind, and he exclaimed, in a loud and 
decided voice, as he dragged away 
from the hand of Archy, that had still 
retained its hold on his arm, “ I’ve 
never played truant yet, and I don’t 
think I ever will. Father says he 
never played truant when he was a 
boy ; and I’d like to say the same thing 
when I get to be a man.” 

“ Nonsense, Charley ! come, go with 
me,” urged Archy. 

But Charles Murray’s mind was 
made up not to play the truant. So he 
started off for school, saying, as he did 
so — 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


371 


“ No, I can’t go, Archy ; and if I were 
you, I would wait until Saturday. You 
will enjoy it so much better when you 
have your father’s consent. It always 
takes away more than half the pleasure 
of any enjoyment to think that it is ob- 
tained at th% cost of disobedience. 
Come ! go to school with me now, and 
I will go into the woods with you on 
Saturday.” 

“ No, I can’t wait until Saturday. 
I’m sure it will rain by that time ; and 
if it don’t, the hogs will eat up every nut 
that has fallen before that time.” 

“ There’ll be plenty left on the trees, 
if they do. It’s as fine sport to knock 
them down as to pick them up.” 

But Archy’s purpose was settled, and 
nothing that Charles Murray could say 
had any influence with him. So the boys 
parted, the one for his school, and the 
other for a stolen holiday in the woods. 

The moment Charles was alone 
again, he felt no longer any desire to 
go with Archy. He had successfully 
resisted the temptation, and the allure- 
ment was gone. But even for listening 
to temptation he had some small punish- 
ment, for he was late to school by nearly 
ten minutes, and had not his lessons as 
perfect as usual, for which the teacher 
felt called upon to reprimand him. But 
this was soon forgotten ; and he was so 
good a boy through the whole day, and 
studied all his lessons so diligently, that 
when evening came, the teacher, who 
had not forgotten the reprimand, said to 
him : 

“ You have been the best boy in the 
school to-day, Charles. To-morrow 
morning try and come in time, and be 
sure that your lessons are all well com- 
mitted to memory.” 


Charles felt very light and cheerful 
as he went running, skipping, and sing, 
ing homeward. His day had been well 
spent, and happiness was his reward. 
When he came in sight of home, there 
was no dread of meeting his father and 
mother, such as he would have felt if 
he had played the truant. Every thing 
looked bright and pleasant, and when 
Juno came bounding out to meet him, he 
couldn’t help hugging the favorite dog 
in the joy he felt at seeing her. 

When Charles met his mother, she 
looked at him with a more earnest and 
affectionate gaze than usual. And 
then the boy noticed that her counte- 
nance became serious. 

“ Ain’t you well, mother ?” asked 
Charles. 

“ Yes, my dear, I am very well,” 
she replied. “But I saw something an 
hour ago that has made me feel sad. 
Archy Benton was brought home from 
the woods this afternoon, where he had 
gone for chestnuts, instead of going to 
school, as he should have done, dread* 
fully hurt. He had fallen from a tree. 
Both of his arms are broken, and the 
doctor fears that he has received some 
inward injury that may cause his 
death.” 

Charles turned pale, when his mo- 
ther said this. 

“ Boys rarely get hurt, except when 
they are acting disobediently, or doing 
some harm to others,” remarked Mrs. 
Murray. “ If Archy had gone to 
school, this dreadful accident would 
not have happened. His father told 
him that he might go for chestnuts on 
Saturday, and if he had waited until 
then, I am sure he might have gone 
into the woods and received no harm, 


372 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


for all who do right are protected from 
evil.” 

“ He tried to persuade me to go with 
him,” said Charles. “ And I was 
strongly tempted to do so. But I 
resisted the temptation, and have felt 
glad about it ever since.” 

Mrs. Murray took her son’s hand, 
and pressing it hard, said, with much 
feeling : 

“ How rejoiced I am that you were 
able to resist his persuasions to do 
wrong. Even if you had not been 
hurt yourself, the injury received by 
Archy would have discovered to us 
that you were with him, and then how 
unhappy your father and I would have 
been, I cannot tell. And you would 
have been unhappy, too. Ah ! my 
son, there is only one true course for 
all of us, and that is to do right. 
Every deviation from this path brings 
trouble. An act of a moment may 
make us wretched for days, weeks, 
months, or perhaps years. It will be 
a long, long time before Archy is free 
from pain of body or mind — it may be, 
that he will never recover. Think 
how miserable his parents must feel ; 
and all because of this single act of dis- 
obedience.” 

We cannot say how often Charles 
said to himself that evening and the . 
next day, when he thought of Archy, 

“ Oh, how glad I am that I did not 
go with him !” 

When Saturday came, the father 
and mother of Charles Murray gave 
him permission to go into the woods 
for chestnuts. Two or three other 
boys, who were his school companions, 
likewise received liberty to go; and 
they joined Charles, and altogether 


made a pleasant party. It did not 
rain, nor had the hogs eaten up all 
the nuts, for the lads found plenty 
under the tall old trees, and in a few 
hours filled their bags and baskets. 
Charles said, when he came home, 
that he had never enjoyed himself 
better, and was so glad that he had 
not been tempted to go with Archy 
Benton. 

It was a lesson he never afterward 
forgot. If he was tempted to do what 
he knew was wrong, he thought of 
Archy’s day in the woods, and the 
tempter instantly left him. The boy 
who had been so badly hurt, did not 
die, as the doctor feared ; but he suf- 
fered great pain, and was ill for a long 
time. 


A Poor but Honest Mother. 

Translated from the German, for the Cabinet. 

BY MBS. ST. SIMON. 

lfjf\ ne day, as a rich man, on his re- 
JIJ| turn from a short journey, rode 
Wm through a little village, which 
lay not far from the city where 
he dwelt, a poor girl approached him 
and begged for alms. 

“ Do you live in the village ?” asked 
the rich man. 

“Yes,” answered the maiden ; “ and 
I have a poor mother, and four brothers 
and sisters, all younger than I am.” 

The rich man was moved at these 
words. He rolled up a guinea in a 
piece of paper, and threw it to the maid- 
en. The carriage was soon out of 
sight, and poor Maria, so was the maid- 
en called, unrolled the paper, but knew 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


373 


not what to think when she perceived 
within it a small yellow coin. She 
supposed it must be a penny, for she 
had never, in all her life, seen a piece 
of gold. She looked sadly after the 
carriage, and the tears came into her 
eyes. “ So rich a man, in a handsome 
carriage with four gray horses, and he 
does not give me even a sixpence, but 
only a penny !” 

Thus spoke poor Maria, and was on 
the point of throwing away the mista- 
ken gift. But it then came into her 
mind, that she might give the shining 
yellow piece to her little sister to play 
with. “Ah, mother,” she said, when 
she had returned home, “ I will never 
beg again ! Did you see the rich man 
with four gray horses drive by ? What 
do you think he gave me ? A penny, 
a yellow penny ! I was going to throw 
it away, but then I thought that Lizzy 
could play with it. There, Lizzy !” 

“ Let me look at it,” replied her mo- 
ther. She took the coin, went to the 
window, and looked at it through her 
spectacles. “ Ah, you simple child,” 
she said, in a moment, “ this is not a 
penny ; it is a guinea, a golden guinea, 
and is worth five whole dollars ! The 
rich man has given it to you by mis- 
take, for the rich never give so much 
to the poor, although they might easily 
spare it. The beautiful gold piece 
would be a great help to us, indeed. I 
could buy many bushels of corn with 
it, and a pair of shoes for you, Maria. 
But no, no, it would be dishonest to 
keep the money. Early to-morrow 
morning I shall send you into the city, 
where you must inquire after the rich 
man, and return him his guinea. Per- 
haps he then will give you a shilling, 


and even if he does not, we shall, at 
least, have nothing to reproach our- 
selves with.” 

“ Oh, how glad I am now that I did 
not throw away the yellow penny !” 
said the little girl. 

The next morning, as soon as it wa3 
light, Maria must set out upon her 
errand. Her mother tied the guinea 
in a corner of her apron, that she might 
not lose it. 

On the way, the good-hearted girl 
inquired of the people who came out 
of the city, where the rich man lived 
who owned a yellow coach with four 
gray horses. The people laughed and 
passed on. Poor Maria could not un- 
derstand why they laughed. At the 
gate, and in the city, she asked the 
same question. But nobody could tell 
her where the rich man lived who own- % 
ed the four gray horses; for the city 
was large, and many rich men lived 
in it. 

The good child stood sadly at a cor- 
ner of one of the streets and wiped her 
eyes with a check apron. She was 
unwilling to return to her mother with 
the guinea. At last, a well-dressed man 
came up the street ; he saw the weep- 
ing maiden, and stopped. “ What is 
the matter, little girl ?” he said. 

The girl looked up and cried out for 
joy. It was the same man who had 
given her the guinea. “ Ah,” she ex- 
claimed, “ I am so glad that I have 
met you ! My mother sent me hither 
to return you the gold piece which you 
gave me yesterday by mistake.” As 
she said this, she untied the knot in the 
corner of her apron, and reached the 
guinea to the rich man. 

The gentleman was surprised at such 


374 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


a trait of honesty and conscientious- 
ness. “ Your mother must be a very 
worthy woman,” he said. “ Take the 
guinea back again, and give it to her. 
To-morrow I will come myself and see 
her.” 

The good man kept his word. The 
afternoon of the next day saw him in 
the wretched hut of this honest woman. 
He inquired concerning her situation, 
and as he found her in great want, and 
worthy of compassion, he took a deep 
interest in this poor family. The mo- 
ther received from him a weekly allow- 
ance, and he sent the children at his 
own expense to school, clothed them, 
and took care of them until they could 
honestly support themselves by daily 
labor. 

There is a moral to this story, child- 
ren. Conscientiousness and honesty 
are sure to meet with their reward. 


Letters to the little Folks. 

BY A LOUISIANA DOCTOR. 

hildren, — I have a great mind to 
write you a letter or two about 
matters and things in the country 
where I live. My home is a great 
distance off from most of you, away in 
the state of Louisiana ; but as I once 
lived in the Northern States, I have a 
strong feeling for the young people of 
that section of country, and would like 
to tell them of what I see here — things, 
I suppose, very few of you know much 
about. 

You surely know something' of Mis- 


sissippi River, or at least you know from 
your Geography and your Map, of such 
a river, that it runs through all the 
Western States, and flows down into 
the Gulf of Mexico.. Perhaps, too, you 
know that there are a great many steam- 
boats running upon it ; but I doubt very 
much whether you know what a broad, 
deep, wild, muddy looking river it is. 
There are some things in the world that 
it is necessary you should see with your 
own eyes, in order to get any thing like 
a tolerable idea of them. 

For instance, there are the Falls of 
Niagara, in the state of New York. 
Nobody can describe them so as to give 
even a faint notion of them. It is not 
in the power of language to do so. 
That scene is on too grand and sublime 
a scale for words, mere words, to at- 
tempt the description. So it is with 
the Atlantic Ocean. Did you ever 
see the ocean, boys ? did you ever see 
it, girls } Ah ! that is a glorious 
sight, too — one that you must see to 
appreciate. And I may say that the 
majestic Mississippi River is another — 
being so different from all other rivers, 
that you must look upon it, and travel 
upon it, before you can know much 
about it. 

There is one thing, however, you 
do know, I presume — that this is a very 
hot climate in summer, a very mild 
climate in winter, and a very lovely 
climate in the fall of the year and in 
the spring. Would you believe me, 
if I were to tell you that I have read 
a letter by moonlight? As you get 
nearer the tropics, you know the light 
of the moon and stars becomes much 
brighter. A gentleman, who had 
lived in the island, of Jamaica, told me 



THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


375 


that the planet Venus cast a shade 
from the trees in the West Indies. 

They raise a great deal of sugar in 
Louisiana — sugar enough to supply 
the whole United States. They raise 
a quantity of cotton, too, in this state. 
Cotton enough is raised in five or six 
of these Southern States, to supply the 
whole world, almost. Did you know 
that, my young friends ?— that the 
large factories of Massachusetts and 
other states, and the larger factories in 
England, are all supplied with the 
cotton raised here in the South ? 

And then these manufactured goods — 
calicoes and ginghams, and brown do- 
mestics, are sent all over the world, 
by means of ships trading in foreign 
parts. 

Cotton is the most important plant, 
next to grain, that men cultivate. It 
makes the planter rich that raises it ; 
it makes the merchant rich that sells 
it ; it makes the manufacturer rich 
who buys it and brings it to his mills, 
and there has it made up into cloth and 
calico for people’s use^-and, more than 
all, it puts bread into the mouths of 
thousands of men, women, and children, 
who, in a thickly settled country like 
England, are obliged to find employ- 
ment in the factories. Some people 
have said that cotton is the very life 
blood of commerce ; and a great 
portion of the present greatness of 
England is also said to be owing to 
her extensive manufactures of cotton 
goods — the cotton itself being furnished 
to the English people by the United 
States. Only see how closely the 
people of this country and the people 
of Europe are linked together ! 

And now, I will tell you some more 
12 * 


about this cotton plant, and how they 
raise it. It is not sowed in the ground 
like wheat, or rye, or buckwheat, 
and there left to take care of itself; 
that would not do at all. Cotton needs 
a great deal of care and labor. It 
has to be planted in beds, made up for 
the purpose, like beds in your garden, 
and it has to be tended with all the 
care and industry that a garden re- 
quires. In fact, we might say that a 
cotton field is really one immense gar- 
den, where the plow and the *hoe have 
to be very busy all the time, to keep 
down the grass and the weeds. 

The farmers in New York and New 
England raise a variety of things, as 
you know very well ; but here in the 
South they raise principally two — cot- 
ton and corn ; and where sugar cane 
is the product of the soil, they raise 
sugar and corn. You could not fail 
to notice, if you were in this country, 
the great size of the fields. In the 
North you think thirty or forty acres 
a large lot ; but not so here, for a 
common sized cotton field contains 
two or three hundred acres, and indeed 
I have seen fields with five or six 
hundred. But it takes a great many 
working hands to cultivate such large 
fields, and tended, too, as I have told 
you, just like a garden. So, to do all 
this work, they have negroes, who, 
according to the laws of the South, 
belong to the white people that own 
the plantation. It would look strange 
to you, would it not, to see a whole 
village of men, women, and children, 
two or three hundred of them, all 
under the government of one man* 
whose word is a law to them, just as 
the word of your parents is to you ? 


376 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


These negroes live in a little village 
on some part of the plantation, which 
is called the quarter. Every family 
has its own cabin to live in ; and the 
owner gives them their bread, and 
meat, and clothes, and allows them a 
place for a garden. Besides, there is 
a white man who is the overseer. 
He lives at the quarter, too; and he 
takes charge of all these black peo- 
ple — staying with them all the time, 
and keeping them at their work. 

These negroes work pretty hard ; 
but they could not raise cotton, if they 
did not work hard ; and it takes almost 
a year to make and gather the crop. 
In January and February, they plow and 
bed up their ground ; in March they 
plant the seed; in April, May, June, 
and July, they are busy all the time 
plowing and hoeing, and keeping down 
the grass and weeds, which often grow 
faster than the cotton. Then, in Au- 
gust they begin to pick out the cotton ; 
and if the crop i$ a large one, it takes 
until Christmas to get it all gathered. 
For months, you will see the negroes, 
day after day, swarming along these 
cotton rows, busy as so many bees, 
gathering with their fingers the beau- 
tiful white cotton. 

It is a very lively sight, to see fifty 
or sixty negroes, men and women, 
busy at work with their hoes, and to 
observe how skillful they are in the 
use of this tool, and how near they will 
cut the grass about the tender plant, 
so as not to injure it. Sometimes, 
when they feel gay and light-hearted, 
they sing a noisy song, which, when 
they all join in the chorus, can be 
heard for nearly a mile. These negro 
songs have something quite wild and 


musical about them, that sounds very 
well at a distance. I have often 
listened to them with great pleasure, 
especially toward evening, when some 
fellow, with louder voice than the rest, 
would strike up a tune, in which oc- 
casionally all would join, filling the 
air with their wild music. 

All along through the fall, even until 
frost, which never comes in Louisiana 
before the last of October, the cotton 
balls or pods- keep bursting open, so 
as to discover the snow-white potton 
hanging loosely from them. It is a 
very tedious business to gather it, as 
you may well suppose, requiring 
nearly half the year. It is picked, as 
I said, by hand, a pod at a time — great 
care being taken to keep it clean from 
the leaves and stems. When picked, 
it is carried in baskets on the negroes’ 
heads to the gin-house, (I don’t mean 
a distillery, children — nothing of that 
kind) in order to be run through a mill, 
and separated from the seeds, to which 
the threads of the cotton adhere very 
firmly. This mill, which is called 
the cotton gin, was invented by a real 
Yankee from Connecticut, named Eli 
Whitney, not more than fifty years 
ago. He was teaching school in a 
gentleman’s family in South Carolina, 
when he set his ingenuity to work ; 
and it may almost be said that. this 
machine has given wealth to the world. 

Before this machine was invented, 
the planter was obliged to pick out the 
seeds by hand, and a pound a day 
would have been a good day’s work ; 
but now, by means of Mr. Whitney’s 
gin, which is turned by four horses, a 
thousand pounds of clean cotton are 
considered a common day’s work. 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 4 


377 


The fine cotton flies out from the gin 
like flakes of feathery snow, and when 
a large pile of it is collected, it is ready 
to be put under a tremendous screw, 
and pressed into bales. These bales 
are pretty heavy, containing four or 
five hundred pounds each. They are 
square like a box. I presume you have 
all seen a cotton bale. The planter’s 
name is then put upon one end, to- 
gether with the number of the bale, 
and sometimes its weight, and off* 
goes the wagon, with a load of them 
to the river, where a steamboat car- 
ries them to New Orleans, to be sold. 
You may suppose they are heavy, 
when I tell you that a four horse team 
can only carry eight of them at a 
load. 

Negroes become very expert in 
gathering the cotton from the field. 
From one hundred and fifty to two 
hundred pounds a day are considered 
good picking. But I would engage 
that none of you little folks could at 
first pick more than fifty pounds a day, 
because there is a good deal of sleight 
about it. This amount of two hundred 
pounds from the field will only make 
seventy pounds of clean cotton when 
ginned , as they call it. So you may 
readily suppose that it requires a great 
many negroes and a great many days 
to gather a large crop. 

Perhaps, however, I have spun out 
my story about the cotton planters long 
enough, and I will wind off* before I 
tire you. I mean to write again to 
you ; and in my next letter, I will tell 
you about the fine fishing parties we 
have in the lakes here, and how to* 
catch alligators. Till that time, little 
folks, good bye. 


Frogs and Toads. 

any people think that the toad is 
poisonous. Relieve me, when 
I tell you this is not the truth ; 
on the contrary, it is perfectly 
harmless, may be rendered tame, and 
even be taught to eat out of your hand. 
True, it is far from prepossessing in its 
appearance ; but this is no excuse for 
your destroying it. Were we, on the 
contrary, to encourage it in our gar- 
dens, and protect it, we should soon 
perceive its usefulness in the diminu- 
tion of insects and worms which make 
such havoc among vegetation. You 
would be delighted to watch it before 
seizing upon its prey. For a moment 
or two it remains perfectly motionless 
and fixed as a stone, its eyes bent upon 
the insect, and its head thrown forward ; 
when, the instant the object moves, it is 
struck by the tongue of the toad, and 
' drawn into its mouth ; and so rapid is 
the action, that it is scarcely the work 
of a moment ; and unless your eye 
happens to alight upon it in the very 
tick of time, you would discover that 
the insect had gone, without seeing 
when or where. It is also very amu- 
sing to see it seize upon a large, long 
worm ; especially if it happens to lay 
hold of it in the middle ; the poor worm 
twists and turns all kinds of ways, on 
the outside of the jaws of the toad, and 
by its twining and struggling, endea- 
vors to escape ; but all in vain, for the 
toad makes use of its fore feet, first 
shoving one end of it into its mouth, 
and then the other, until the whole is 
devoured. - Gilbert White, in his “ His- 
tory of Selborne,” tells us of some ladies 
who took a fancy to a toad, which used 



378 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


to come out every evening from a hole 
under the garden steps, and, after sup- 
per, was always taken up and placed 
upon the table, where it was fed : so 
v that, you see there were a few people, 
even more than half a century ago, 
who were not afraid of being poisoned 
by it. Mr. Bell, in his “History of 
British Reptiles,” makes mention of a 
very large one which he kept, which 
would sit on one of his hands while it 
ate from the other. I must also tell 
you that the toad, like the snake, casts 
its skin, and now and then comes out 
with a new coat on its back. As to its 
being found alive in the centre of a 
solid rock, or in the heart of a large 
tree, where it has been supposed to have 
lived for hundreds of years, without 
either a mouthful of food or a breath of 
air, why, I think it about as likely to be 
true as the tale of the horse, which its 
owner boasted he would teach to live 
upon nothing, and which, to nobody’s 
astonishment but his own, died as soon 
as he began to reduce it to a straw a day. 
So has it turned out in every experiment 
which has been made to imprison toads, 
either in stone, plaster, or wood ; and 
although they have lived much longer 
than might have been expected, they 
have generally been found dead at the 
gnd of a few months. One or two, I 
believe, have lived over a year in this 
state of imprisonment; but no animal 
requires less respiration, or, when not 
in motion, can live upon less food. 

Those little dark-looking objects 
which all of you must have seen swim- 
ming about, by hundreds, in ponds and 
ditches, with their large, round heads 
and long tails, and something like fins 
projecting out from each side of the 


neck, and which you call tadpoles, are 
young frogs ; and were it not that 
thousands upon thousands of them are 
devoured by small fishes, they would 
soon multiply to such an extent that, 
when fully grown, they would overrun 
the land. Few animals have more per- 
secutors than the poor frogs; it can 
never grow too big for the jaws of the 
voracious pike; almost every kind of 
water-fowl feeds upon it ; it is the fa- 
vorite food of the snake ; and as for 
weasels and polecats, they devour them 
by hundreds ; and there is hardly a 
bird of prey that does not feed upon 
them. Surely, then, this poor reptile 
has plenty of enemies, without being 
pelted to death or destroyed by cruel 
boys. Like the toad,. it is a great de- 
stroyer of insects, and you will never 
find many in a garden which is fre- 
quented by frogs ; it takes its food in 
the same manner, by throwing forward 
its tongue, which, in a state of repose, 
doubles back as you would fold a leaf ; 
its tongue also possesses a kind of sticky 
matter, to which the prey adheres. 

You have, no doubt, heard scores of 
them croaking when you have been 
walking out, on a beautiful calm eve- 
ning, by the side of some long, strag- 
gling dyke ; and to me it has ever 
seemed far from an unpleasant noise; 
and during my rambles by the side of 
such places, I have always made a 
point of looking where I planted my 
foot, that I might avoid trampling any 
one of them to death. Like many 
other reptiles, it sleeps during the win- 
ter, burying itself in the mud at the 
•bottom of the water, where they are 
often found in draining or digging out 
a water-course, huddled together by 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


379 


scores ; and I have seen a large spade- 
ful of them lifted out at once. When 
spring comes, they are all alive and 
kicking again. But the most wonder- 
ful thing in the structure of these harm- 
less reptiles is, that they have the power 
of breathing through the skin. This 
has been proved by tying up the head 
tightly with a portion of bladder — in 
fact, literally hanging them — then pla- 
cing them in a vessel under water. If 
you ever want to see how far a frog 
can leap, without doing it any injury, 
tsrike the ground smartly a few inches 
behind where it is squatted, with a 
stick, and away it will jump, an asto- 
nishing distance. Their motions in the 
water are beautiful, and I know no bet- 
ter tutor to teach you the art of swim- 
ming than a frog. Only watch nar- 
rowly its attitude, stretch yourself out 
as it does, with the head elevated, and 
strike out in the same way with the 
hands and feet, and, take my word for 
it, you will soon be able to swim. — 
Boy’s Own Library . 


Don’t be Frightened at Bugbears. 

f ^HEN I was a boy, I spent a sum- 
if mer with an uncle on the 
1 Green Mountains of Vermont. 
* During haying-time, we had 
one day raked up some clover into 
rows — windrows , as the farmers tech- 
nically call them — expecting to cart it 
in soon. In the meantime we went 
to dinner. Before proceeding to the 
field again, a great commotion was ob- 
served among the fowls. The old 
chanticleer raised his voice to the high- 


est pitch; the mother-hens sounded 
their note of alarm, and even the tur- 
keys exhibited great evidence of appre- 
hended danger. I hastened to their 
assistance. Each of the old people 
among them had his or her head turned 
up in that peculiar manner, common to 
each kind of animals when looking for 
an enemy above them. The chickens 
and young turkeys had concealed their 
heads under the weeds and grass, per- 
haps thinking that if they could not see 
their enemy, their enemy could not see 
them. Directed by the eyes of the old 
fowls, I looked upward, and saw, to my 
astonishment, what I took to be a large 
number of monstrous great hen-hawks, 
sailing round and round at a vast ele- 
vation over our heads. I could not 
wonder that the fowls were alarmed, 
and cried out for help. I stood by 
them, like a brave soldier, until these 
aerial enemies had sailed off to so great 
a distance, that danger was no longer 
to be apprehended. We were now 
called to the hay-field, to take care of 
the clover ; but what was our surprise 
to find it had nearly all disappeared ! 
There had been a whirlwind which had 
elevated and scattered our light hay, 
and it was that sailing round and round 
which had caused such consternation 
among our feathered folks. This story 
might teach inferior animals (if they 
could be taught such a lesson) not to 
be frightened at bugbears. 

But even the intelligent creature, 
man, sometimes needs this caution. 
As an illustration of this, I will tell 
another story. Not long since, I had 
occasion to cross a hill in this region, 
called “ Ox Ridge,” one dark night. 
By going across the lots I could save 


380 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


.considerable travel ; so I concluded to 
take my staff and pick my way, as best 
I could, across the fields. I had enter- 
ed the field which reaches to the top of 
the ridge, and was walking rapidly for- 
ward, not far from a fence which ran 
parallel to my path, when I discovered, 
on the opposite side of the fence, be- 
tween me and the sky, what seemed to 
be an ox, or a bull, going pretty fast up 
the hill, in a direction which would 
bring him to the fence a few rods ahead 
of me. The faster I walked, the faster 
he walked. When I stopped, he stop- 
ped. Now, every one knows, that a 
bull, especially a mad bull, is a formi- 
dable adversary. I began to feel the 
cold pimples start on me; my hair 
seemed rather inclined to rise ; and I 
felt a little at a loss whether it was not 
the part of prudence to retreat, and take 
some other route to my place of destina- 
tion. But then, as there was a fence 
between us, though not a very substan- 
tial one, I concluded .to press on, and if 
I must fight, to do it manfully. Now, 
what would you have done, under these 
circumstances, my young readers ? 
Was I prudent, or rash, in deciding to 
go forward ? Many a soldier has turn- 
ed his back and fled, when there did 
not appear to be half as much danger 
as there was ift this case. Here I 
could almost see my antagonist pawing 
the ground with rage, and rushing for- 
ward to the encounter. But as hazard- 
ous as it seemed to proceed, onward I 
went, ready to raise my weapon of de- 
fence, if the furious beast should attack 
me. Well, what was the result?' I 
will tell you. When I reached the top 
of the hill, and stopped to take breath 
and survey my enemy, I found that the 


mad bull was nothing more nor less 
than a neighbor’s barn, which stood at 
such a distance as to seem only the 
size of an ox, and being first discovered 
between me and the sky, while I was 
in rapid motion, and on the other side 
of the fence, it produced all the effects 
which I have described. This bull of 
my imagination was what I mean by a 
bugbear. 

I might tell you many more stories 
illustrating the folly of being frightened 
at that which will not hurt you — but 
these are enough for the present. 

E. D. K. 


An Ingenious Dog. 

& correspondent of the Boston 
Traveler tells the following 
capital story, which is good 
enough, we think, to be added 
to our catalogue of stories about dogs : 

A gentleman, while discussing the 
merits of his dog, not long since, re- 
marked that he was valuable to go of 
errands. As an illustration of this point, 
he privately secreted his handkerchief 
behind the cushion of the sofa, and 
left the inn, in company with his dog. 
After walking for some minutes, he 
suddenly stopped, and said to his dog, 
“ I have left my handkerchief at the 
inn, and want it” — giving no particu- 
lar directions in reference to it. The 
dog immediately returned in full speed, 
and entered the room which his master 
had just left. He went directly to the 
sofa, but the handkerchief was gone. 
He jumped upon tables and counters, 
but it was not to be seen. It proved 
that a friend had discovered it, and, 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


381 


supposing that it had been left by mis- 
take, had retained it for the owner. 
But Tiger was not to be foiled. He 
flew about the room, apparently much 
excited, in quest of the “ lost or stolen.” 
Soon, however, he was upon the track ; 
he scented it to the gentleman’s coat 
pocket. What was to be done ? The 
dog had no means of asking verbally 
for it, and was not accustomed to 
picking pockets ; and, besides, the 
gentleman was ignorant of his busi- 
ness with him. But Tiger’s sagacity 
did not suffer him to remain long in 
suspense ; he seized the skirt contain- 


ing the prize, and furiously tore it 
from the coat, and hastily made off 
with it, much to the surprise of its 
owner. Tiger overtook his master, 
and restored the lost property, receiv- 
ing his approbation, notwithstanding 
he did it at the expense of the gen- 
tleman’s coat. At a subsequent in- 
terview, the gentleman refused any 
remuneration for his torn garment, 
declaring that the joke was worth the 
price of his coat. The owner of this 
dog is now in business in Boston, and 
can vouch for the correctness of this 
story. 


The Early Dead. 

A gay and beauteous maiden came to gather early flowers, 

Amid the new-made glories of morning’s peaceful hours, 

When crystal dews were glistening on every petal fair, 

Like tear-drops in the eye of her who feels the weight of care; 

And the winds were softly whispering, as with an angel’s tongue, 

That last night to the drowsy flowers their stirring enthems sung. 

But the little maiden plucked them not, and left them, as she said, 

“ I leave you till the glowing noon, when sunlight streams o’erhead ; 

Then, when your odors fill the air, and all the dews are gone, 

I’ll weave a pretty garland that I may call my own.” 

She left the smiling garden, and lightly tripped away, 

Bland as the morning’s balmy breath, or birds upon the spray ; 

And you might have seen her cheerful face, and heard her gentle song, 
Which on the fresh and buoyant air was lightly borne along. 

The noon was in its splendor, the sun rode bright and high, 

In his chariot of yellow gold, across the cloudless sky, 

And the meny maiden came again ; but only came to sigh, 

That the things she loved and nurtured, so soon must droop and die ; 

For the burning sun had withered them, the flowers she used to see, 

And they lay like children smitten in some mighty family. 

But she learned a useful lesson ; for when the coming morn, 

Like some angelic infant, ’mid songs of joy was born, 

She came and culled a garland, the fairest of the fair, 

And skipped away in gladness, to twine it in her hair. — 

To this story, little children, this moral I shall write: 

Whate’er your hands may find to do, do it with all your might. C. 

i Saratooa SpRiwas, Nov. 1847. 


382 


\ 

TH k YOUTH’S CABINET. 


. t 

The Drummond Light. 

S ince the commencement of the 
present century, through the ra- 
pid extension of the science of 
chemistry, vast improvements 
have taken place in the methods em- 
ployed for artificial illuminations. — 
Thus, the general introduction of gas 
lights in most of our large cities, has 
furnished a light for streets and dwell- 
ings, much superior to that previously 
obtained from oil or candles. The 
argand lamp has been introduced, and 
with the aid of parabolic reflectors, has 
been successfully applied to light-house 
illumination. The blue, Drummond, 
and French lights, with many others, 
have been given to the world, and have 
respectively won for themselves a large 
share of public favor. 

Of these, the one known, from its in- 
ventor, as the “Drummond light,”. pro- 
bably ranks the first. In 1824, Lieut. 
Drummond, then engaged in a govern- 
.ment survey .of Ireland, in which it was 
frequently desirable to take the respect- 
ive bearings of points some seventy or 
eighty miles distant, felt the want of a 
light for communicating such informa- 
tion, that could be visible at a greater 
distance than any yet known. The 
firing of rockets, and similar means 
that were usually resorted to, could only 
be employed to advantage where the 
stations were not widely separated, and 
when the atmosphere was quite clear 
from any haze, which was seldom the 
case. It had for a long time been 
known that lime, with some of the other 
earths, became very luminous when 
exposed to an intense heat, such, for 
instance, as that obtained by combining 


a jet of oxygen gas with the flame of 
spirits of wine ; but the happy idea of 
rendering this property of the earths 
subservient to practical purposes, was 
reserved for Lieut. Drummond. After 
a series of experiments, he found that, 
by throwing the united flame of spirits 
of wine and oxygen gas upon a ball of 
lime, only three-eighths of an inch in 
diameter, a light was obtained of such 
brilliancy as to be fully equal to that 
emitted from thirteen argand burners ; 
almost too intense for the eye to bear. 
Of later years, it has undergone a 
slight modification, hydrogen gas ha- 
ving been substituted for the spirits of 
wine, as being less expensive, and per- 
haps otherwise preferable. The appa- 
ratus is very simple ; it consists of two 
gasometers, in which the respective 
gases are generated ; from thence pro- 
ceed two tubes, which unite, near the 
ball, so as to form there but one. The 
gas is conveyed by these tubes to the 
ball of lime, and there ignited ; and 
with the ball is connected an arrange- 
ment for replenishing the balls as fast as 
consumed ; if desirable, a parabolic re- 
flector is added, thus rendering it com- 
plete. This light was found to answer 
admirably the purpose for which it was 
designed — for signals, to be given at 
great distances. In several trials made 
with it to test its power, it was distinct- 
ly seen as a clear, white, vivid light, at 
a distance exceeding seventy miles ; 
thus placing its claim to superiority 
over all others, beyond dispute. — Se- 
lected. 


“ Worth has been underrated ever 
since wealth was overvalued.” 


383 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Desolation of Judea. 


& s I traveled from Jaffa to Jeru- 
salem, over some as fine soil 
as could be found any where, I 
did not see so much as one 
blade of grass, though I looked for 
it as one would search for a dia- 
mond. This, to me, seemed very 
strange, for I knew that in England 
grass will grow where nothing else 
will; but here, neither among the 
fine stubble fields, nor even along 
the road-side, where no plow comes, 
was to be found so much as what 
might with strict propriety be called 
a blade of grass. This is something 
vfery astonishing. Not having ever 
seen this taken notice of in any 
books of travels that I have ever 
read, I cannot help thinking that sure- 
ly I must be the first English farm- 
er who had paid a visit to this land. 
Upon my arrival in Jerusalem, and 
perceiving that all the milk that was 
brought into the city in one day, for 
about twenty-four thousand inhabit- 
ants, did not exceed ten or twelve 
quarts, and that even that small 
quantity was only goat’s milk well 
watered ; and when I could find no 
honey, but a small piece which I had 
the pleasure of tasting while taking 
tea with the bishop’s chaplain.; I 
could not but exclaim to myself — 
how completely have God’s judg- 
ments been executed in this devoted 
land! And most clearly did I per- 
ceive that the natural cause of all 
this evil was the absence of sea- 
sonable rain — rain, which waters the 
earth, and blesses it with fertility. 
God has withheld, and thus brought 


all these/ evils, and many more which 
I need not stay now to enumerate, 
upon the land which once flowed 
with “milk and honey.” — Lowthian’x 
Visit to Jerusalem . 


Second Hand Sermons. 

H^kHEY who read sermons composed 
by others are often led into mis- 
11 takes. A German divine says, 
^ one of these retailers of small 
ware, having picked up a homily com- 
posed some years before, when the 
plague was raging in the country, 
preached to his congregation on the 
Lord’s day. Toward the close, having 
sharply reproved vice, he added, “ for 
God has visited you and your families 
with that cruel scourge, the plague, 
which is now spreading every where 
in this town.” At his uttering these 
words, the people were all so thunder- 
struck, that the chief magistrate was 
obliged to go to the pulpit, and ask 
him, 

“ Sir, pardon the interruption, and in- 
form me where the plague is, that I 
may endeavor to prevent its further 
spreading.” 

“ The plague, sir,” said the preach- 
er, “I know, nothing about the plague. 
Whether it is in town or not, it is in 
my homily.” 


“ There is a time when nothing 
should be said, a time when something 
should be said, but no time when 
every thing should be said.” 


384 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


Working on the Sabbath. 

« here are a great many people 
who profess to keep the Sabbath, 
M according to the fourth com- 
mandment, but who, some how 
or other, always find a multitude of 
“ works of necessity” to be attended 
to. We have seen a capital anecdote, 
lately, about a family of such people, 
who were pretty severely rebuked by, a 
colored man in their employ. The 
family were farmers. One Sabbath 
morning the colored man was not up, 
as usual, at breakfast. The son was 
sent to call him ; but Csesar said they 
need not wait for him, as he did not 
wish for any breakfast. “ Why, Cse- 
sar,” said the young man, “ we shall 
want you, as soon as the dew is off, to 
help about the hay.” “ No,” said he, 
“I can’t work any more on the Sab- 
bath ; it is not right.” “ Not right !” 
said the other ; “ is it not duty to take 
care of what Providence has given 
us ?” “ Oh, there is no necessity for 

it,” said he, “ and ’tis wrong to do it.” 
“ But would you not pull your cow or 
sheep out of a pit, upon the Sabbath, 
Csesar?” “ No, not if I had been try- 
ing all the week to shove them in : I 
would let them lie there.” 


The Discontented Pendulum. 

f E wish we knew whom to thank 
for this charming fable. Like 
thousands of other creditable 
articles, it is wandering about 
in newspapers, having strayed away 
from the owner’s enclosure — or rather, 


perhaps, having been stolen away — 
without so much as a cropped ear to 
designate its origin. Our young friends, 
however, will be amused and instruct- 
ed by the little vagrant, perhaps as 
much as if we were able to tell them 
where it came from. But be that as 
it may, here is 

THE FABLE. 

An old clock that had stood for fifty 
years in a farmer’s kitchen, without 
giving its owner any cause of com- 
plaint, early one summer’s morning, 
before the family was stirring, sudden- 
ly stopped. Upon this, the dial-plate 
(if we may credit the fable) changed 
countenance with alarm ; the hands 
made a vain effort to continue their 
course ; the wheels remained motion- 
less with surprise; the weights hung 
as if dead ; each member felt dispos- 
ed to lay the blame on the others. At 
length the dial instituted a formal in- 
quiry as to the cause of the stagnation, 
when hands, wheels, weights, with one' 
voice protested their innocence. 

But now a faint tick was heard 
below from the pendulum, who thus 
spoke : 

“ I confess myself to be the sole 
cause of the present stoppage ; and I 
am willing, for the general satisfaction, 
to assign my reasons. The truth is, I 
am tired of ticking.” 

Upon this, the old clock became so 
enraged, that it was on the very point 
of striking. 

“Lazy wire!” exclaimed the dial- 
plate, holding up its hands. 

“Very good,” replied the pendulum ; 
“it is vastly easy for you, Mistress 
Dial, who have always, as every body 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET. 


385 


knows, set yourself up above me — it is 
vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse 
other people of laziness! — you, who 
have had nothing to do all the days of 
your life but to stare people in the face, 
and to amuse yourself with watching 
all that goes on in the kitchen. Think, 
I beseech you, how you would like to 
be shut up for life in this dark closet, 
and wag backward and forward, year 
after year, as I do.” 

♦ “ As to that,” said the dial, “ is there 

not a window in your house on purpose 
for you to look through ?” 

For all that,” resumed the pendulum, 
“it is very dark here; and although 
there is a window, I dare not stop, even 
for an instant, to look out at it. Be- 
sides, I am really tired of my way of 
life ; and if you wish, I’ll tell you how 
I took this disgust at my employment. 
I happened this morning to be calculat- 
ing how many times I should have to 
lick in the course of only the next 
twenty-four hours ; perhaps some of 
you above there can give me the exact 
sum.” 

The minute hand, being quick at 
figures, presently replied, 

“ Eighty-six thousand, four hundred 
times.” 

“Exactly so,” replied the pendulum: 
“ well, I appeal to you all, if the very 
thought of this was not enough to fa- 
tigue one ; and when I began to multi- 
ply the stroke of one day by those of 
months and years, really, it is no won- 
der if I felt discouraged at the pros- 
pect ; so, after a great deal of reason- 
ing and hesitation, thinks I to myself, 
I’ll stop.” 

The dial could scarcely keep its 
countenance during this harangue ; but 


resuming its gravity, it thus replied : 
“ Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really as- 
tonished that such a useful, industrious 
person as yourself should have been 
overcome by this sudden action. It is 
true, that you have done a great deal 
of work in your time ; so have we all, 
and are likely to do, which, although it 
may fatigue us to think of, the question 
is, whether it will fatigue us to # do. 
Would you now do me the favor to give 
about half a dozen strokes to illustrate 
my argument ?” 

The pendulum complied, and ticked 
six times in its usual pace. 

“ Now,” resumed the dial, “ may I 
be allowed to inquire if that exertion 
was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to 
you ?” 

“ Not the least,” replied the pendu- 
lum; “it is not of six strokes that I 
complain, nor of sixty, but of mill- 
ions.” 

“Very good,” replied the dial ; “but 
recollect that, though you may think 
of a million of strokes in an instant, 
you are required to execute but one ; 
and that, however often you may have 
hereafter to swing, a moment will al- 
ways be given you to swing in.” 

“ That consideration staggers me, I 
confess,” said the pendulum. 

“Then, I hope,” resumed the dial- 
plate, “ we shall all immediately return 
to our duty; for the maids will lie in 
bed, if we stand idling thus.” 

Upon this, the weights, who had never 
been accused of light conduct, used all 
their influence in urging him to pro- 
ceed, when, as with one consent, the 
wheels began to turn, the hands began 
to move, the pendulum began to swing, 
and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever, 


/ 


386 

while a red beam of the rising sun, that 
streamed through a hole in the kitchen, 
shining full upon the dial-plate, it bright- 
ened up as if nothing had happened. 

When the farmer came down to 
breakfast that morning, upon looking at 
the clock, he declared that his watch 
had gained half an hour in the night. 

There is a great deal to be learned 
from this ingenious little allegory. In 
fact, dear reader, setting the allegory 
aside, the clock, toiling on, from hour 
to hour, from day to day, is one of the 
best moral teachers we have, if we will 
but heed its voice. There it stands, 
steadily and accurately marking the 
moments of our life, as they flit away. 
No matter what we are doing — no mat- 
ter whether we hear its admonitions or 
not — whether we are industriously and 
innocently engaged, or whether we are 


^ 0 v & ' 

L~ cyf ■ 

wasting our time, forgetful of God, and 
Christ, and the eternal world — the pen- 
dulum is still swinging to and fro, and 
the silent indices are warning us that 
the minutes and hours of our life are 
passing away. They point to eternity. 
They tell us that soon we shall need 
these markers of time no longer. While 
we write, and while you read, the hands 
on the dial are moving forward. A 
few more suns will rise and set, and 
another year is closed. So we are 
borne onward in our voyage to eter- 
nity. Reader ! live for the future, as 
well as for the present. Seek counsel 
and direction from above. Learn of 
Christ : he is your best Friend — your 
surest, firmest, only ‘hope. He alone 
can conduct you to heaven. Children, 
may you all feel the value of time. 
May you be taught to make the most 
of this life, and to prepare for 


THE YOUTH’S CABINET 



















































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